75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots
by Gamemaker97
Summary: The Hunger Games have had a long and eventful history, that all of Panem has witnessed. But very few can claim to have actually been there in the arena, where a split-second decision means the difference between life and death. This is the story of the Hunger Games, from the eyes of the lucky few who entered the arena and lived to tell the tale.
1. Panic Song

**A/N: Firstly, I'd like to mention that the inintial idea for this story (a series of oneshots) came to me after reading, following and generally enjoying 'A Year Of Hunger Games' by Foxface'sSpecialPie. It was an inspiration for this, and I hope that if you haven't already, you will give that story a read. It'll be worth your time.**

**But, I digress. This idea just came to me one afternoon, and seemed like a decent idea for a series, although I'll let you, the readers, be the judge of that.**

**This is meant to be canon (well, 98% canon, I won't claim that it's perfect!) to both the original trilogy and to my other fanfics on this site, as many of the victors in this series of oneshots were of my own creation in my first story, "Second Time Unlucky".**

**Also, in order to draw inspiration for seventy-five individual oneshots, I've been relying on musical sources, by pressing shuffle on my iPod and writing based on whatever the song is makes me think of. They're not songfics (I believe that's what it's called when the story is dictated by the song), I've just used them for inspiration. Still, I'm including the song that I drew inspiration from in the chapter overview (under this VERY LONG author's note) to give a hint at where my ideas came from, as well as quoting the lyrics that served as the actual inspiration.**

**One final point; not all author's notes will be this long, I promise.**

**"Ready for a cheap escape**

**On the brink of self destruction**

**Widespread panic**

**Broken glass inside my head**

**Bleeding down these thoughts of anguish**

**Mass confusion."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1995.**

* * *

**The 1st Annual Hunger Games**

**Fraser Reynolds (18), District 4 Male**

**Green Day- Panic Song (1995)**

* * *

The ascent from the tube takes longer than expected. Leaving Fulvia, my stylist, below me in the Launch Room, I'm headed for the arena. It's quite odd how quickly everything has gone wrong.

A year ago, we were in the midst of war. Twelve districts versus the Capitol and District Two. Horrific life loss. Unimaginable destruction. All in the hope of creating a better nation; a better Panem.

What the Capitol has given us is hell on Earth. Security increased tenfold in the districts, no access to weapons whatsoever. And we were given the Treaty of Treason.

And so I am two minutes from the start of the 1st Annual Hunger Games. A boy and girl aged twelve to eighteen from each of the twelve remaining districts will be sent to an arena to fight to the death. And this year, in my only year of eligibility, I have been chosen for the Games. Just my luck.

From the announcement of the Hunger Games seven months ago, I have always imagined that the tributes would enter the arena, a large indoor open space, armed with weapons, prepared to kill as soon as they set foot in the arena.

However, this won't be the case. As I ascend into the arena I am unarmed. I guess weapons will be lying around somewhere once we enter the arena.

As for the arena itself, I no longer think that it will be a large open space. In training, some of the survival stations taught which plants are edible, fire starting, shelter building and more. I'd now be tempted to say that we will have to combat the wilderness during the Games. I have only been told one thing about the arena; we start on raised pedestals. I've also been told that once we're in the arena, we have to stand still on the pedestal for one minute until a gong sounds, signalling the start of the Games. If we move from our pedestal before the gong, then apparently the Gamemakers will blow us up.

I know what I'm not doing once we're on the pedestals.

Suddenly I'm blinded momentarily as I break out into sunlight. After giving myself ten seconds, I regain my eyesight and start to make out my surroundings.

I'm in some form of meadow; a whole clearing of very short grass on flat land. About half a mile away to what I believe to be north-west, there are sparse woods. I guess I was right about it being outdoors. The day is warm, but not hot. Somewhere between fifteen and twenty degrees Celsius. There's a slight wind, which will be cooling, if I need to run. No doubt I'll be running for my life sooner or later I can see twenty-three other tributes on their pedestals, in a perfect circle. The tributes directly on my left and right, the boy from District 6 and a girl I don't recognise, are at least eight yards away. Plenty of time to react once the Games are underway for real.

All the tributes are circled around a tall, golden horn-shaped structure. In a world of nature, a deliberate structure such as this horn must serve a major purpose. There's a form of entrance (an opening) on one side that I can barely see, and I imagine the interior of the horn holding all sorts of choice supplies. This entirely alien structure in a natural arena is only here to draw us in. No doubt there'll be a few weapons, too. Whoever has the brains to realise this and run to the horn first will have control of the best weapons and supplies.

I'm not a bad sprinter myself, so I'd be tempted to run for this. Only the bottleneck at the horn entrance would leave me overwhelmed by incoming tributes, even if I was leaving with a knife or a sword. I'm not going to run in. Well, maybe I will. I'm likely to be there first or second. But I can't be second. Second is the first of the losers. If someone has already got there and is armed, if I arrive second, I'll be the first one they cut down.

Then again, there's a good chance nobody else in the arena is trained with weapons. During the war, District 4 allowed sixteen-year-olds into the military, and was the only district to do so. All the other districts set the age limit at eighteen.

So when I was sixteen, I signed up to fight for the rebels in the last year of the war. Although I never had a chance to fight for the rebel cause before the uneasy peace was negotiated, I was trained as a soldier. I know how to fight and have basic weapons training. No wonder I had the highest training score; a ten.

The only other two eighteen-year-olds, the boys from Seven and Ten, will both have turned eighteen since the end of the war, so are unlikely to have had military training. Assuming there are no weapons, I reckon I could take the boy from Ten in hand-to-hand. However, I'm not so sure about District 7, a tall, muscular boy who might not be able to run for far or for too long, but in an unarmed fight, I doubt he'd ever need to run. Regardless, they're both weaker overall than me; they scored eights in training.

Looking round the circle, I can see the boy from District 7 about four pedestals to my right. I'm still searching for the boy from Ten when the gong sounds.

A minute had passed already! And now the Games must begin for real.

I'm indecisive for a few moments before deciding to run in towards the horn. If it was meant to lead tributes in, it's certainly got me hooked. Looking around, about six or seven others are running for the horn, too. Of the remaining tributes, nearly all of them seem rooted to the spot on their pedestals. A few, who haven't been lured in by the possibility of weapons and supplies, have disappeared into the meadow, where the grass lengthens to chest-height about fifty yards behind the pedestals. One small boy, who I think is from District 2, is running for the woods.

But I shouldn't keep my attention on them for long. Within ten seconds I'm at the entrance to the horn, three boys hot on my heels. Objects glint out of the darkness within. Blades. I'm sure of it. Then I'm tripped from behind and I sprawl to the floor, the boy from District 10 hurdling my fallen body.

I see him reach for a weapon, a long-bladed sword, and turn it on the other two boys who had followed him into the horn. His sword goes through the side of one boy, and quickly severs the head of the second. I'm still on the floor, paralysed in fear, when the boy from Ten comes over to me, grabs me by the neck, and throws me against a supply crate that I didn't see until I hit it. I sprawl on the floor, and he holds out his sword towards me, and I stay away from the point. Yet he doesn't strike at me.

"Allies?"

What? At this point, he should be driving his sword through me. But he's offering me a way out. For now.

"District Four!" he calls again. Outside I can hear scuffles and screams. No doubt someone else has found a weapon that District 10 had missed. But for now, that doesn't matter. I'm entirely at this boy's mercy.

"So, you joining me?" he asks. I'm a bit confused by his offer. Why make allies, when there can only be one victor? Surely alliances will only lead to betrayal. And this boy doesn't need me. He's already shown me that he's a potent killer. Maybe he thinks that, judging by my high training score, the pair of us will be able to wipe out all the rest of the field working together. To be honest, we probably could. He certainly seems to have good weapons skills, and I know that I have, too.

I manage to force myself to reply.

"Sure, why not?" I reply, and he pulls me to my feet with his non-weapon hand.

"There's another sword at the back."

Walking to the back of the horn, where the roof is lower, I find the aforementioned sword. Slightly shorter that the one that District 10 has, it feels light in my hands. Good.

I return to the entrance to the horn just as my new ally slashes through a blond-haired girl, who I recognise to be from District 1. How he can be so ruthless, I don't know. I know that in order to escape the arena, I will have to kill at some point, but I don't want to become a merciless murderer.

"There are plenty of supplies in here," says the boy from Ten. "Make sure to guard the entrance."

Outside, there is only a scene of chaos. There must be ten tributes in sight, half of them armed with small blades. A couple are unarmed, and one girl has a spear that is way too large for her.

On the ground lie the dead; the ones who have already lost the game. Over for them in just a few moments. They don't have to endure any of this suffering. Maybe it's better that way.

A short boy runs at me, trying to drive a knife into my chest, I dodge to the side, but the blade nicks through my arm just above the elbow, I cry out in pain and double over, and when I look up, I see the boy from District 10 cleaving the boy in half. I'm having second thoughts about this alliance already. His screams pierce the arena, all but stopping any violence surrounding the horn.

Upon seeing me and District 10 armed with swords, all thoughts of violence leave the tributes that remain, only to be replaced with fear.

I see the boy from District 12, who must be sixteen or seventeen, drop his knife and turn to run, eager to make a quick escape into the meadow. All around him lies a scene of mass destruction, the grass littered with the limp bodies of dead tributes. Nine or ten in total. And two well-armed older tributes in the form of myself and District 10 are coming his way.

All the other tributes are in a frenzy, running every which way to leave the cornucopia. The widespread panic has caused most to abandon their weapons and flee. I can see that a young girl with long black hair has kept possession of a knife as she vanishes into the meadow.

District 10 picks up the spear that had been dropped by the little girl. Out in the light of day, I can get a better look at my ally. He must stand just under six feet tall, with very pale skin and a short crop of black hair. He's on the slender side of normal weight, but not skinny. Holding the spear, I can see his black, cold, calculating eyes flit from target to target. Then he launches the spear, and I watch it sink into the back of a small, ashen-skinned boy, who collapses to the floor, screaming. Dying, but not dead yet.

I follow District 10 the fallen boy, who's still screaming. As we walk, the other tributes disperse. I pass over the body of a young dark-skinned girl, a gash in her throat. How old was she? Twelve? Thirteen? Certainly no older than fifteen. Whatever her age was, it's not old enough. Not old enough to die. Not by a long way.

Of all the methods that the Capitol could use to make the districts suffer, I can't imagine anything more twisted than forcing the nation to watch its young kill each other off. How anyone could even consider letting this happen is a mystery.

Of course, this is just a sick machine of revenge, brought upon us by the hated and feared Capitol.

We reach the fallen boy together, and my ally pulls a short knife from his belt that I never knew he had. He kneels over the whimpering child, ready to slit his throat. Then he has second thoughts, stands up and hands the knife to me.

"Go on then, Four." he says, trying to test me. "You do it."

He wants me to kill the helpless boy on the floor. He's going to die, anyway. The spear has punctured through the front of his chest. There's no point in causing him any more harm.

But if I can't kill, I'm of no use to the boy from District 10. If I don't kill, I'm sure he'll try to kill me. As doubts begin to fill my mind, I find nothing but hate building up against my so-called ally. No doubt he will betray me. Probably by sunset. I shouldn't stay with him for long. He's forcing me to kill, and, if I'm honest, if anyone should lie dead, it should be him. How many has he killed already? Five? Maybe more. He deserves to be dead. Plus, I don't want such a ruthless murderer up and about if I can help it.

I bend down, putting the knife to the boy's throat. But then I turn quickly and throw the knife at the boy from Ten.

Considering I'm only three yards away, I'm slightly disappointed in my throw. It sunk into him just above his collarbone, and although there's no doubt he'll be in a lot of pain, I won't have damaged any major organs. My knife won't kill him. But I don't wait to find out.

I watch him stagger backwards, cursing due to the pain, and I turn and run for the meadow. I crash through the chest-height grass, not caring that I leave an obvious trail behind me. No doubt he'll be after me, whether I leave a trail behind me or not. But I don't look back to find out.

All I want is to be out of there.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! I'm intrigued as to what you think of the concept, plus the actual quality of my writing. As with all my stories, constructive criticism is welcome :)**

**P.S. I should note that all author's notes after this chapter are written at the time of publishing, and won't be edited afterwards, so some of them may refer to events or competitions that are no longer relevant or important, if you're catching up with this story rather than reading it as it is being posted.**


	2. Hope & Ruin

**"If you break down**

**I'll pull you through."**

**- Colin MacDonald, 2011.**

* * *

**The 2nd Annual Hunger Games**

**Charity Green (16), District 9 Female**

**The Trews- Hope & Ruin (2011)**

* * *

I wake slowly, and I'm conscious of my district partner, fifteen-year-old Brendan crouching by a primitive fire near me. I can hear the crackling of the tinder as the fire takes hold, and the smell of wood smoke cuts across to me easily. We shouldn't stay here for long. Both the smoke and the smell will attract tributes. Not that there are many left to attract. Only nine of us are still alive.

I open my eyes slowly, and see that the landscape remains unchanged from yesterday. Staying inside my sleeping bag (which is propped up against the trunk of a tree) for warmth, I take in my surroundings.

We're in a dense forest, largely populated by towering pine trees, and the distinct smell of pine hangs thick in the air. Well, it did until we lit the fire. As with all week, the Gamemakers have kept the arena cold. Not freezing, but close. The woodland spreads over both sides of a steep valley, and I can see thick fog settling further down the hill, and I can see the woodland on the slope opposite us. There, amidst the trees, is that the yellow of a- no. Even if it is a tribute, I can't think like that. It'll only get me worried, even if we're a mile away, and encounters are slim.

It's amazing how far we've come without killing. Well, I haven't killed. Brendan says he injured someone badly at the cornucopia (well, that's what the commentators called the golden horn last year) but he doesn't know if they died from the injuries he caused, or if someone else got them. Either way, the face of the boy from District 5 was in the sky on the first night. I've asked him more about it, but he won't go into any details. To be honest, I'd want to keep memories of such events to myself, too.

After several unsuccessful attempts at rousing myself, I finally leave my sleeping bag. The cold bites at me as I fumble with my coat, which I had unzipped in my sleeping bag. Typical. Always too hot or too cold. Never just right. My biggest adversary since entering the arena has been temperature. The arena has stayed consistent, though. Even though it's July, every day I wake to November. Cold, but not quite freezing. Always foggy and misty, but never raining. A slight wind on the sides of the valley, still air by the river.

I hate the river. The one water source in the arena, which consists of a wooded river valley. As it's at the bottom of the valley, everyone can see you when you trek down the banks for water.

I've watched four get killed off down at the river. I know that someone, a good archer whoever it is, has shot three along a certain stretch. Me and Brendan have learnt to steer clear of that sector. I'm worried that because of this, we're starting to get complacent.

I walk slowly over towards Brendan, who is finishing off a pear, and crouch next to him by the fire, thawing myself in its warmth.

"Sitrep?" I ask.

"One packet of beef strips, a few berries, half a litre of water."

"That won't last us long," I say matter-of-factly.

"No," says Brendan, sighing. "We need to return to the river."

There's no way out of it. We need to return to the killzone. I'm sure the other seven who remain know that risking the open is a death-trap, but are prepared to venture to the river because without it, death would be upon them. Even so, tributes are visiting the river with increasing scarcity, trying to make what water they have last as long as possible. I can't deny that we have been doing the same thing. But now there is no option; we've almost exhausted our water supply.

"So how're we getting there?" asks Brendan. "We can't approach as we did before. It was too obvious; someone will suspect something."

Last time we went for water two days ago, we had ran to the highest point of the river, where the river enters the arena through a large culvert. From there, we could see the whole arena.

Roughly a mile and a half long, with steep valley slopes extending roughly four hundred yards out from the river in both directions, until the slope becomes a cliff, and you can climb no higher. The lower end of the river leads only to a lake, surrounded by the steep valley walls on three sides. The higher end is a sheer cliff-face, but for the culvert that provides us with water. I'm sure it could be possible to escape the arena by crawling though the culvert, but we have no means of getting through the iron bars that block the entrance to the culvert, which is roughly three metres in diameter. Maybe if we had the equipment to let us escape, I would. Still, I reckon the Gamemakers would kill us before we get very far.

"So where do we go?" I ask, uncertain of our plan of action.

"I'm not sure," replies Brendan, who is frowning in thought. "I guess we should stay close to the edge of the cliffs, so that we can't be taken from behind. Then we only have to watch one direction."

"Good idea," I say. "What about arming ourselves?"

"Well, I've got my spear," says Brendan. "And we have two knives. It's up to you whether we take a knife each or you have both."

"I'll take just the one, Brendan," I say. "A spear can only be used once; you'll need a knife after that."

"Alright," says Brendan, passing me a knife from his belt. "We'd better get moving."

Brendan stands and smothers our small fire with dirt. We only have to wait five minutes for the embers to diminish to nothingness. Then we pack up what few supplies we still have into a small backpack that Brendan carries, and start the climb up the side of the valley to the cliff face. Brendan walks ahead, checking for potential traps, whilst I watch his back. Not that I'll be able to do much but alert him of another tribute's presence. Armed with only a five-inch combat knife, I guess I'm the worst-armed tribute left in the arena. But let's not worry about that now. Water is our main priority.

When we reach the cliff face, we turn left towards the higher end of the valley and stay close the cliff, as to keep only our left sides exposed to attack. My ankles begin to tire, not only due to the slope of the valley, but due to the uneven surface of the ground. Here in the woods, the ground is coated with pine needles, which offer more give than the usual path surfaces of tarmac, gravel or even dirt. Due to this, my balance fails me every few minutes as we slowly make our way towards water.

It's late morning when the cannon fires. Brendan and I stop our trek to try and catch a glimpse of the hovercraft, and where the tribute's corpse is collected from. Sadly, due to the canopy, we don't even see the hovercraft, we only hear it come and go.

As we walk on in silence, I realise that now there are only eight of us left. Just seven more to kill, and if I want to return home, one of those seven will be Brendan. I know I'll have to confront him eventually, but for now, I'm sure that he wants that circumstance as little as I do. But thankfully, we should still have a few days to wait.

I can almost guarantee that we're the only alliance in the arena, and for now, that gives us a distinct advantage. Last year, only one alliance was formed, and despite the two tributes from District 6 being weak, they survived unarmed until day two. Only then did an unfortunate run-in with the eventual victor, District 4's Fraser Reynolds, end their survival chances.

I knew that this year, District 4 were the real threats. The rules of the Games state that each year, up to two previous victors can 'mentor' the tributes from their district during the Games. As only one Games have occurred, Fraser Reynolds gave Four a distinct advantage at the start of the Games. Both of his tributes scored reasonably highly, with a six and an eight. I expected them to ally in the arena, but the girl who had scored an eight was killed at the cornucopia on the first day. Without his partner, the boy is just an average tribute in the Games. Still, I've kept an eye on the boy from District 4. As of last night, he was still in the game.

The only other tribute that I was certain I knew the identity of was the girl from District 7, who I believe was called Tracy. She was the highest scoring tribute, and the only one of us to score a nine. I'm not surprised she's made it to the final eight. I hope me and Brendan don't run into her anytime soon.

And then there is Brendan. I guess he's just an average tribute. He has a typical District 9 look; light brown hair that now looks untidy, light blue eyes and slender build. Not many of us are ever stocky. Just the lucky few.

He scored averagely in training (a five), and is moderately armed, with a spear and a knife. But he knows how to survive alone, and that's enough to make him a worthy contender. His knowledge of the natural environment has been the difference between life and death for me. Without him, I wouldn't be alive now.

And suddenly I realise how important Brendan is to me. I know that I have to keep him with me as long as possible. With Brendan, there remains the hope of one of us making it home to District 9. If I lose Brendan, I'll be ruined.


	3. Shoot The Runner

**"Kings may come and then go**

**By this sword you must know**

**All things will come and then pass**

**Live your days like the last."**

**- Sergio Pizzorno, 2006.**

* * *

**The 3rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Augustus Holt (18), District 2 Male**

**Kasabian- Shoot The Runner (2006)**

* * *

The cold air bites me as it cuts across my open face. My leather coat might protect my body from the cold, but my head is unprotected. At least, unlike one of our adversaries, I have unimpeded sight.

Forty yards away, just visible through the blizzard, are my two opponents. Standing by the cornucopia are the dark figures of the males from Four and Five, allied against us. On my right is my district partner, Lucia. She stands tall as I do, one year my younger. Both of us have prospered in the arena. Learning from the alliances we witnessed in the arena last year between district partners from Seven and Nine, we planned to survive together from the start.

Then, if only us two remain, we would fight to the death honourably. No backhanded ways out. It will be a fair fight.  
And now, after eleven long days in frozen tundra, only four of us remain. Drawn to the cornucopia by the promise of firewood from the Gamemakers (we have been running low on the commodity for days), all of us descended upon the frozen lake that holds the cornucopia. We scythed through the girl from District 8 en route to the cornucopia, reducing the field to four, only to find out that the Gamemakers had lied. There was none of the promised firewood. And then the blizzard came.

Stumbling around in the chaos, we came across the other two males, both aged seventeen. They led us back to the cornucopia where we stand facing each other, forty yards apart.

Suddenly, the blizzard shuts off, and we are exposed to clear skies again. The Gamemakers had obviously grown tired of the blizzard. The low sun slants across the icy ground on which we stand, causing us to squint to avoid being blinded. The sky is cloudless, and the air is still.

Removing their hoods, I can clearly identify my two adversaries. For the first time in the short history of the Hunger Games, the four highest-scoring tributes have survived until the final four. The highest scorer, red-headed Arthur of District 4, is carrying a long sword. He's next to Tristan of District 5, who stands a few inches taller than his ally. He has a spear in his left hand, poised to throw.

We stand unmoving for a few moments, before Arthur starts walking slowly towards us. I see Lucia's fingers curl around the drawstring over her bow, ready to shoot. But I caution her with a gesture by raising my hand in front of her bow. She seems to consider my order for a moment, but gives in to it and lowers her weapon. She knows that failing to obey would result in her death. I'm in charge in this alliance, and I've made sure that Lucia knows it, too.

Arthur stops about half way between Tristan, who is leaning against the golden horn that is the cornucopia, and Lucia and I. He sheaths his weapon, placing his sword in his belt.

"Don't shoot!" Arthur calls. The arena is almost entirely silent, and his words echo back from all directions across the frozen lake. "I'm here to talk, not fight!"

"What should we do?" asks Lucia. I know that she'd rather just shoot him and be done with it. She must think that there is some sort of trap. Well, I can't see the problem with Arthur. He's already sheathed his weapon first. I know he's intent on being peaceful. Looking beyond him, Tristan seems on edge, but I guess he's just nervous that Arthur's plan will backfire. I can't blame him; I'm unsure what Arthur's motives are myself. But curiosity gets the better of me, and I give in to him. I sheath my own sword, which is shorter than Arthur's, and walk slowly to meet him.

"Don't shoot him; he's just a messenger," I command Lucia as I leave, and ignore her protests. Arthur wants to negotiate. For what purpose, I'm not sure, but if the opposition wishes to parlay, then parlay they shall.

As I reach him, Arthur holds out a hand to me, and I shake his proffered hand.

"Augustus," he says quietly to avoid the other two hearing us, greeting me with a smile. However, his voice doesn't share the same mood, and his tone has more sincerity than his expression. Looking into his green eyes, which are squinting due to the low sun, I see only coldness and sincerity. I know already that Arthur hasn't called me here for a friendly chat. He wants something done.

"Arthur," I say equally as coldly as his greeting. "What is the meaning of this arrangement?"

I try to sound confident; diplomatic, even. Like I know what I'm doing, and that I'm willing to negotiate. But at the same time, I'm hoping to come across as serious and unforgiving. Or, at the very least, I'll confuse him.

"The Games are almost over, my friend," Arthur replies patronisingly. No love is lost between us. "And only one of us will leave alive."

"I could have told you that two weeks ago, Arthur." I reply mockingly. Arthur doesn't see the funny side.

"Tell me, Augustus," he continues, ignoring my comment. "Do you think your ally will turn on you?"

I have never even considered Lucia turning on me before the final two. We have agreed since the train journey before we arrived in the Capitol that we would ally until we become the final two. I have never considered an alternative situation.

"We plan to remain allied until the final two," I say honestly.

"But does Lucia genuinely mean that?" taunts Arthur. "Or is she planning betrayal?"

I don't bother to answer him. But at the same time, I'm scared that he speaks the truth. I expect him to continue when I don't reply, and he quickly carries on.

"Tristan and I have been open with each other, you see," he continues, sounding slightly arrogant. "We both admitted that we were planning to kill the other before the final two, so we have a proposition for you."

I raise an eyebrow to show interest, but yet again, I let my actions speak instead of words.

"I propose that we break all alliances now."

"And for what purpose?" I ask, finally fed up with Arthur dragging out his explanations.

"If nobody is allied, nobody can backstab anyone else, and nobody can be seen as unjust. No one will feel guilt at a kill. Just a simple four-way fight to decide who goes home."

Arthur's idea intrigues me. Without any ties to Lucia, I will have no regrets about killing her. If we become the final two, I would still feel guilty about killing her. That way, I wouldn't be turning against her because I wanted to, I would be turning against her because there is nobody else left to kill. If I choose to split from her now, I'll be free of that guilt forever.

"Will we have long to prepare, or will this fight begin immediately?" I ask, hoping for the first option.

"We'll give you a few minutes to prepare, yes," says Arthur. "But after that, you're on your own."

I hold out my hand towards Arthur again.

"I agree to your deal," I say. "It's everyone for themselves from now on."

Arthur grasps my hand and shakes it firmly. Looking up at his face, he's smiling, and his eyes are glinting excitedly. Evidently he's keen to get this fight underway.

But then Arthur's grip on my hand slackens, and he crumbles to the floor, landing on the thick ice with a loud crack. Only once he is still do I see the arrow in his temple.

_So much for not shooting the runner._

I realise that Lucia must have mistook us shaking hands for an alliance against her. Well, that would be partially right. I'm not her ally anymore. She's just as much of a threat as Tristan- Tristan!

I'd forgotten about the boy from District 5. It's a good thing that I remembered, too, because as soon as I turn to face him, he's launched his spear at me. I duck and hear it clatter to the ground behind me. I guess it missed Lucia, too. I was half hoping that Tristan would take out Lucia for me. At the very least, it would save me a job.

I can now see Tristan fumbling to draw a knife from his belt, but to no avail. Turning, I see Lucia ten yards behind me, her bow loaded, aiming in my direction. For a moment, I think of stopping her, but my sword is still sheathed following the parlay with Arthur. I have no escape.

Then I hear the boom of a cannon, and I know that Arthur is no longer with us. The noise makes Lucia jump for a second, but then her eyes are focussed once more, her bow ready. She shoots, but the arrow flies over my shoulder. I look behind me to see Tristan collapse, an arrow in his chest. I hear the knife that he hand pulled from his belt clatter against the ice as he lets go.

Turning back to Lucia, I see that she has discarded her bow and drawn a knife. I back off, unsheathing my sword and holding it out warily towards my district partner, but she remains untroubled. She hurls the knife at me, and it opens up a gash in my forehead. The pain blinds me momentarily, and then I am blinded by the stream of blood running over my left eye. I drop my sword and both hands go to my head as I collapse to the floor in agony. My head feels like it's on fire, and my mouth is filled with the metallic taste of my own blood.

Suddenly, the air is knocked out of me as Lucia pins me to the floor. I wriggle underneath her, preventing her from using the knife that she retrieved to strike the killer blow. Finally I work my left arm free, and land a punch on her cheek, causing her to fall off of me.

I scramble to my feet, using my right eye for sight. The pain in my head disorients me, but I scramble slowly away as Lucia gets to her feet ten yards behind me, armed with a knife.

I dive on the ground over the bow that Lucia had discarded earlier, and I hear the knife whistle past me and bury itself in the ice in front of me. Now we are both unarmed.

I stand to face Lucia, five yards apart. I have the bow, she has the arrows. We have reached stalemate. But I have an idea.

Slowly, I start to circle around her until my back is facing the cornucopia, and then start walking slowly backwards. I don't yet think Lucia realises my plan. She won't rush towards me, as in hand-to-hand combat, I've easily won. I'm half a foot taller than her. But she needs her bow back, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

Weakened by my head injuries, I wouldn't bet against her defeating me in an unarmed fight.

I edge backwards until I come up to Arthur's body. Perfect.

Before Lucia can realise what I'm doing, I quickly bend down and pull the arrow from Arthur's head. It's covered in blood and I don't want to think about what else, but it will do the job. I fumble it into the bow quickly as I stand up.

Lucia realises my plan, but it is too late. I just have time to watch determination turn to fear in her sky-blue eyes before I let the arrow fly.


	4. Insomnia

**"I'm drinking myself to sleep again**

**Nightnurse pills to keep me sane**

**I'm drinking myself to sleep again**

**Insomnia!"**

**- Grant Nicholas, 1999.**

* * *

**The 4th Annual Hunger Games**

**Jon Kerry (17), District 10 Male**

**Feeder- Insomnia (1999)**

* * *

I stare at the synthetic sky of the arena, but don't see. I hear the rustling of the long grass, but I don't listen. All my senses are in shutdown, lying on my back in the arena grassland. I know by now that I should be tired, and I am, but I can't sleep. Not after today.

I judge that it's been three hours since I saw their faces in the sky. Those faces of the fallen tributes. Those unlucky few who never escaped the carnage at the cornucopia.

This year was the toughest for survival. For the first time, a pre-determined alliance has been struck up. Even in training, we could see it. We knew that there would be a hunting pack of four in the arena. From what I heard in brief conversation with Horatio, the District 2 male, during training, he had volunteered for the Games because he had been promised glory and wealth by District 2's lucky victor from last year, Augustus Holt. Apparently he spoke out to the children of District 2, urging the strongest to volunteer at the reaping, for he, a Hunger Games victor, had a plan to lead them to victory. And many were bought by the plan. The strongest of those that clamoured for glory were selected as tributes, and along with the tributes from District 4, who were selected by Fraser Reynolds in the same way, they formed an pre-organised alliance.

Due to one line that Augustus had apparently told to District 2- "you'll begin a career as a celebrity"- I've nicknamed these tributes from Two and Four 'Career' tributes, as they are only here because of the promised glory. And thus their group is known to me as the Career Alliance. As they were selected by their mentors as the _créme de la créme_ of their districts, all four scored at least nines in training. One of them, the boy from District 4, scored the first eleven in Hunger Games history.

And so, when all four allied at the cornucopia, chaos reigned. I was lucky to get out alive; I only think one or two others made it. The Careers that remained took all the supplies. Unless they take each other out, which inevitably they will, they're too powerful to be approached. I don't even know where they went from the cornucopia. Hopefully nowhere near where I went.

When we arrived in the arena, we were situated in a large, marshy swamp. The terrain was difficult underfoot, and that gave the Careers an advantage in reaching the cornucopia, where all the supplies are held at the start of the Games. Struggling through the bog, I only managed to gain a weapon by pulling a knife from a dead girl's back. I had no idea who she was, I couldn't recognise her. No doubt a Career silenced her with a throwing knife. I vaguely remember the boy from Four being a good throw; it was probably him.

I travelled west as quickly as I could from the cornucopia, and after around an hour, the cannons fired. Nine in total. Only fifteen left already.

If I had travelled east, there were low-lying mangroves to scavenge firewood from, but I assumed that the Careers would be attracted by the promise of a heat source, so I chose to avoid it. I was hoping that I would stumble across a wood source if I continued east, but so far I have found nothing.

As the humidity began to drain me, the ground underfoot became less and less waterlogged until I was waking through grassland, not marsh. And here in the long grass, I chose to rest up. I found some berries on some bushes that I passed, and although I am still slightly hungry, the berries were enough to stop me from starving. As for water, well, we can't have everything our own way. Hydration is my first priority in the morning.

But now, lying alone in the long grass, sleep is the thing that I need the most. But my body won't allow it.

I've been on edge all day, constantly looking out for tributes or any other signs of danger. I've developed an almost sub-conscious paranoia of everything around me. Even though fatigue is starting to set in strongly, this paranoia is holding me awake. My instincts are overriding my thoughts. I have to stay awake or I'll end up like that poor girl at the cornucopia. Right now, I'm willing to risk death for a couple of hours of sleep. This level of sleep loss is unbearable.

I've tried everything to calm my mind. In the hours since the death recap, I haven't moved. For at least three hours, I've stared into the sky, counting the stars. It's been an attempt to calm my mind, all of it in vain. In District 10, we say to count sheep to calm the mind for sleep. But here in the arena, I can't conjure up the image of sheep. If I try to think of anything but the arena, all I find is disturbing images of the carnage of the bloodbath at the cornucopia earlier. So by counting the stars, I eliminate the need for imagination.

The arena is so overwhelming that I have no time to think of anything else. All images of home, of my family, seem so distant that they might be dreams. The arena has left me torn from reality, and I've only been in here just over twelve hours. Another two weeks in here, and I might lose my mind. I already feel as though I'm slipping away from myself.

Or maybe that's the fatigue. It's a well-known fact that when you're tired, you can't think straight. Not that I can do anything about it.

I'm just a dehydrated insomniac, lying on my back in a playground for murderers.


	5. Are You Gonna Go My Way

**A/N: This chapter might be a little more graphic in its description of violence than the others. Just something I noticed whilst writing it. I've put the rating at T, but I'm a bit unsure of the boundary between T and M. If you think I've rated this fic wrongly, then let me know and I'll get the rating raised.**

**" I was born long ago**

**I am chosen, I'm the one**

**I have come to save the day**

**And I won't leave until I'm done."**

**- Lenny Kravitz, 1993.**

* * *

**The 5th Annual Hunger Games**

**Adrienne Martins (18), District 4 Female**

**Lenny Kravitz (Cinna!)- Are You Gonna Go My Way (1993)**

* * *

My stylist Cornelius waves enthusiastically at me as the metal plate I am standing on rises upwards towards the arena. He's such a clueless fool; he only sees the Games as a provider of entertainment, and sees it as an honour to play a part in them. I'd be ashamed to be associated with such a terrible creation.

But even though my own participation in these, the 5th Annual Hunger Games, has been voluntary, I'm not here because I want to be here. I'm standing on the pedestal ascending into the arena because it's a last resort.

A year and a half ago, I heard Fraser Reynolds talk of eternal wealth and glory for the victors, and hundreds of egotistical teenagers took notice of him. And I listened, but for different reasons. A victor receives a fine house in Victor's Village, and enough food and money to last more than ten lifetimes. That is why when Reynolds started training tributes illegally for the 5th Games, I attended his training sessions.

My family are amongst the poorest in Four. My father is a like parent after my mother left him, and as an unskilled labourer working in the docks, his wage is barely enough to look after himself, let alone three children. Being the eldest at eighteen, my younger brothers would never survive the Games, aged just fifteen and thirteen. So I began training for these Games to save my family from starvation. And to keep the family going in the meantime, I have begun taking extra tesserae. I can only do it for this year, but after I win these Games, we'll all be rich for life.

I'm not even worried about any of my competitors. I have full confidence in my abilities. If I was the best of any of the girls in Four, why would anyone from any of the other eleven districts be any better?

Even before I volunteered, I was aware that Reynolds was planning for me and my partner, an arrogant and egotistical boy of seventeen called Phineas Locke, to become allies with the tributes of District 2. After all, their alliance was so powerful and successful last year. Excluding their own deaths, fourteen of the twenty tributes in the arena died at their hands. And all four made it into the final eight. Sadly, the Gamemakers saw them to be too powerful. All four died suddenly when the Gamemakers poisoned the water spring that the alliance had been relying on, quickly cutting the numbers from seven to three.

This year, the individuals aren't as strong as last year, at least not in terms of training scores. Three eights and a ten this year, significantly lower than a nine, two tens and an eleven. I scored an eight, as did Phineas, and the boy from District 2, Antonius. The girl, Olive, scored the only ten of the Games. I know that we're weaker than last year's alliance, but we're still a force to be reckoned with, and the most powerful tributes in the arena.

I'm momentarily dazzled as I come out into sunlight. Then, as I work out where the Gamemakers have put us, doubt starts to creep in. I thought, after four years of the Hunger Games, I understood the Games entirely. But now I know that I was wrong.

We're in what appears to be a town square, the ground covered in tarmac. The buildings around it seem unfamiliar; maybe the tributes from another district recognise them. They're dull and weathered, but look structurally sound. I imagine that if they were tidied up a bit, they'd look very impressive.

Behind me, there is a larger stone building, with a very grand set of steps leading up to strong oak doors. A Justice Building of some sort. This arena is clearly set in an abandoned district. I'd guess that if we travel far enough, there'd be a more natural habitat to discover. That's the case in District 4, anyway.

From this town square, I can see three roads leading away. They look like the only escape routes, unless anyone is foolish enough to run into the Justice Building. Then they would be trapped.

Turning my attention back to the tributes, I can spot my three allies almost immediately. Phineas and Antonius are on my right, next to each other, roughly five pedestals round from me. Olive, the smallest tribute in our alliance and yet the highest-scoring, is three pedestals to my left.

For now, our plan is simple. Sprint to the cornucopia, and no doubt Antonius and Phineas will be the first two to arrive of the twenty-four. Then we arm ourselves, and slaughter any of the others who tried to scavenge some supplies. Maybe I won't like the bloodbath; it will be gruesome, and will probably fill me with regrets for life, but it is what I have to do. For my family.

The early-game plan is simple. Pick the choice supplies, hunt in a pack, reduce the remaining numbers into single digits. Then I'll need to either split from the alliance or find a way to kill off one of my allies. If we remain allied until the final eight, we'll go the same way as last year's alliance. And I sure as hell don't want that.

But for now, the cornucopia is all that matters. This year, more lower-quality supplies are strewn in the surrounding area, rather than all the supplies being stockpiled inside the golden horn. This will allow more of the tributes to gather something, at least. No doubt this is to prevent my alliance from hoarding all the supplies, as they did last year.

Right then, I've had enough time to think this through. I know what I'm doing. I drop into a ready stance, preparing to sprint for the cornucopia. I don't have long to wait.

The gong sounds, and I'm off. I cover the paved, even ground remarkably quickly and reach the cornucopia in almost no time, with only Antonius beating me inside. He grabs the first weapon he can see- a mace- and runs back to guard the entrance.

I, however, have more time on my hands to pick a weapon of choice. Inside the cornucopia, I can see several crates of food, some sleeping bags lying loose on the floor, a tent, some torches and an assortment of survival supplies, but my eye is caught by the weapon rack on the wall. Sadly, there is no bow; I will have to use my secondary weapon, the dagger. I grab the only two daggers I can see and run out to the entrance. I have to dodge Phineas on the way out, as he's just arrived, and is in need of a weapon. When my attention returns to outside, I can already hear screams, and the first thing I see is Antonius drive his mace through the skull of a young, black-haired boy. I've no idea who he was, as I didn't bother to check the identities of low-scoring tributes. And because I never knew him, I don't really care that he's dying in front of me, either.

Olive wields a sword, and I can see her run through a young girl, who had a small combat knife that she must have found in the backpack she has over her shoulders. She falls, screaming, to join the other forgotten faces of the bloodbath.

Then I turn away, and the boy from District 1, a sixteen-year-old who actually succeeded in obtaining a reasonable training score (a seven), runs at me with a knife. He lunges for my head, but I duck to avoid his blow. But I'm too slow. My knees buckle as my hand goes to the gash in my shoulder, which is screaming at me in pain.

I've dropped one dagger, and as I stagger backwards in shock and agony, my muscular adversary lunges forward to grapple the second from my left hand. As he charges, I hit a clumsy punch at him, but he barely flinches.

However, his much more powerful response sends me reeling backwards.

As he charges again, I put up my weapon hand to protect myself, and I hear the clashing of blades as his knife collides with my dagger. His arm jars momentarily, allowing me time to switch my dagger to my favoured right hand, and letting me slash down at his weapon hand.

Then the boy is screaming, and he staggers backwards unarmed, holding up the bloody stump of his right arm in front of his face for protection. But I'm not going to leave a job half done. I bring my dagger down between his hands and into his skull.

I allow myself a small smile of triumph as I watch the light fade from the boy's eyes. I release my grip on my dagger and allow it to fall with the boy from One, still buried in his forehead.

Turning back to the cornucopia, I retrieve the combat knife from the dead boy's severed hand as I return. It's not much of a weapon, but it's better than nothing. Looking up, I see Olive almost daintily carve her sword through the girl from District 11. As she falls, I'm aware that everyone else has fled. The bloodbath is over.

Counting the bodies littered around the town square, only seven died in the bloodbath. The lowest figure of any Games to date. I was hoping for ten or twelve to be gone by now, but never mind.

I don't want to admit it at first, but I can't help denying that part of me enjoyed killing. Maybe it was just the adrenalin of the fight, but I was slightly disappointed when the fighting was over. As we pick out the best supplies from the cornucopia, I'm already imagining my next victim. Who says it won't be one of my allies? We can't all win the Games, and I'd rather get rid of one of us quickly. That'll reduce the chances of the Gamemakers targeting us with their traps. Or maybe it'll be a weakling from the outer districts? Whoever it is, I'll enjoy carving them up.

After about half an hour, when the sun is almost directly overhead, all four of us stand with our bags packed, ready to start hunting the remaining tributes. I've been more strongly armed, with a lightweight, agile machete, and Phineas patched up my shoulder using a medical kit we found in the supplies. It's been bandaged up and I'm on painkillers, and for now I feel fine. The bleeding has stopped, and I'll have to wait a couple of days to see if there's any risk of infection. For now, there's no point worrying about it.

"Right, where are we going?" asks Antonius as he comes out of the cornucopia with an extra water bottle that he stuffs into his backpack.

"To hunt tributes, of course," says Phineas sarcastically. I can tell that he hasn't warmed to Antonius. I think Antonius is too big-headed for Phineas. He's too overconfident.

"Well, yeah, but which way?" asks Antonius again.

"Why don't we travel away from the Justice Building? The ground is slightly downhill that way, maybe we can find a water source," I suggest.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," adds Olive, turning to leave.

"Woah, wait!" says Antonius brashly. "Who gave you two the power to decide?"

Olive and I stare at each other, insulted.

"Well, nobody else had a better suggestion," snaps Olive, breaking the awkward silence between the four of us.

"Yeah, well, we shouldn't have you girls making all the rules, should we?" snaps Antonius in reply, looking to Phineas for support, but receiving none.

That was uncalled for. One thing that really annoys me is sexism. Just because I'm a girl, people think that I'm useless at anything practical and that my opinion doesn't matter. Surely, after the bloodbath, Antonius can see that I'm as lethal as anyone in the arena? After all, me and Olive got most of the kills, not him.

"Why not?" I retort at Antonius, catching him off guard. "Last I checked, we both killed someone at the bloodbath, making me just as important to this alliance as you are."

"Prove it."

I'm taken aback by his comment. Is Antonius asking for a fight?

"What?" I ask, having to double check.

"Prove you're stronger than me," he taunts arrogantly.

"What do you mean?" I say, pretending I don't understand his meaning.

"Fight me," he says.

It's all over so quickly. He wasn't even prepared before my machete was in his stomach, up to the hilt. As he slowly collapsed I couldn't prevent myself from grinning, basking in the inner warmth I have from ending his life. For now, Antonius is still alive, hacking and coughing on the floor, blood pouring from both his gaping wounds and his open mouth.

"Well, I guess he deserved it," I say apologetically to my remaining allies, expecting their wrath to be descending upon me at any moment. But to my surprise, neither of them seem too bothered about Antonius' imminent death.

"You're damn right he deserved it," says Olive angrily. "He had some cheek talking about us like that, Adrienne."

"I never liked him, either," adds Phineas, who's actually laughing as Antonius bleeds out.

"Well, that makes three of us," I say for completion. "Plus, in order to avoid the attention of the Gamemakers, we needed to cut the size of our alliance, anyway."

Olive drags our conversation away from our fallen ally.

"Weren't we going to hunt tributes?" she asks, trying to get us to leave.

"Yeah, let's be off," I say, and turn to walk down the path that leads directly away from the Justice Building.  
After walking about twenty paces, the cannons for the bloodbath start firing, and when an eighth cannon fires, I turn back to find Olive and Phineas standing over Antonius' body, with Phineas pulling his knife away from Antonius' throat. I guess he couldn't resist the urge to finish off the arrogant sod.

As Phineas stands, I call back at my two allies.

"Are you two coming with me or not?" I call, and then turn on my heels, walking quickly away from the cornucopia and out into the dangerous, unpredictable world of the arena.


	6. Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

**"Read between the lines**

**What's f***ed up and everything's alright**

**Check my vital signs**

**To know I'm still alive and I walk alone."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2004.**

* * *

**The 6th Annual Hunger Games**

**Topaz McArthur (18), District 1 Female**

**Green Day- Boulevard of Broken Dreams (2004)**

* * *

I crouch in the branches of the tree long after the Careers have gone. It's odd, calling the trained tributes from Districts 2 and 4 Careers, but the nickname seems to have spawned in the Games. I think the victor two years ago, Jon Kerry of District 10, coined the phrase, saying that victorious tributes had been promised a successful career as a result of their success in the arena. Certainly many of the Career tributes only volunteered for the glory. After Kerry survived the arena, his tributes heard the nickname, and now everyone knows the allied tributes as the Careers. It's odd how names can stick so easily.

Whatever you want to call them, though, they're very lethal. I'm lucky I wasn't spotted, hiding high in the branches of an oak tree, in a thickly-wooded arena. Not very original from the Gamemakers after last year, but as a tribute, I don't care. It means I know what to expect.

Of course, as long as the inferno muttations of the last Games don't return, I don't really care what they do to me. There will be some sort of trap, but for now, I should be safe. There are too many tributes left for there to be no action, so the Capitol audience won't be getting bored any time soon.

After three days in the arena, eleven tributes have been killed. The woods make everyone harder to find. I can't imagine myself getting out of here at any time soon. If I'm honest, I can't imagine getting out of here at all. Not because I've given up, not by a long way. But because time seems to have slowed down since I arrived in the arena. Even evading the Careers by taking to the trees felt like days ago, although in reality only two or three hours have passed.

My previous life feels like aeons ago. My hand goes to my chest, my fingers running over the small silver cross that hangs on a thin chain around my neck. My younger sister gave it to me after the reaping. A final token from her to take with me until death; a final reminder of home to help me through the chaos.

But home feels so long ago. And the arena is all that matters now. The sun is starting to set, and I'm away from my base.

I was foraging for food when I stumbled across the Careers, armed with only my dagger and a pouch for berries and other food. When I sighted the Careers about two hundred yards away in the distance, my first thought was to climb to avoid being spotted. I had enough berries to survive a day in the tree, if I would ever need to. Considering my physical size, my best opportunity to win these Games will be by outlasting the others. I'm no physical wonder, at just over five and a half feet tall, but I do know a thing or two about surviving on my own. As I said in my interview with Aurelius Newton on the night before the Games, I'm a survivor, not a fighter. That's what my strength is, and in the Hunger Games, you can't afford not to play to your strengths.

Knowing my luck, I wasn't surprised when the Careers stalked past me, barely ten yards from the base of the tree, and none of them thought to look up. Not that I'm complaining.

I spent the next three hours in a tree, not daring to move from the relative safety of its branches. But now I must return to my base; a hollow tree where most of my supplies are stored. This way, if I somehow lose my food pouch, I still have more food that I can return for.

Dropping down from the tree, I begin to slowly walk the well-rehearsed path through this section of the woods to my base. I have grown to know this area; in the last three days, this has been my territory. As twilight falls, I become evermore wary of my surroundings. Oh, how I long for an ally. Nobody has won these Games entirely on their own. But then again, nobody has won the Games under a height of five feet and nine inches. Maybe I can make history by proving that strength isn't everything, and that relying on others isn't crucial for success. But no, I'm a lonely soul, walking through a landscape filled with the shattered hearts and broken dreams of Panem's children.

I've got my dagger out, treading carefully through the woods. I know these paths so well having walked along this stretch at least ten times, that a barely have to look where I'm going. This is my home in the arena, and I alone belong here. Still, I'm constantly on edge, checking for intruders to my small territory.

I'm sure that most tributes will be readying for sleep, and that nobody will be operate at night, but I daren't let my guard down. Even though I'm the only one here.

I'm unsure whether I should move out. Routine isn't getting me anywhere. Just stuck in a trance, where the arena is the only reality. I'm worried that I'll get complacent. Aside from a brief sight of the Careers today, I haven't seen anyone since the cornucopia. I know that in my corner of the arena, I should be fine, but this constant paranoia is really messing with my head.

But as long as I stay alive, it's ok. It's a stupid habit, but I check my pulse every few minutes. Just to know that I'm alright. Seriously, I'm that paranoid.

It's a vicious circle. I feel worried about running into tributes, even though I know that there aren't any nearby, so I get worried that I'm going to become complacent, so I get worried I'll run into a tribute, but I know that there aren't any near, so I get worried that-

What was that?

I turn sharply on my heels to see a black figure stretched on the ground in front of me, and recoil almost instantly. Then I realise that it's just my shadow, elongated by the twilight. I need to pull myself together. I'm even scared of my own shadow now, and whatever I do, that will never leave me. I never knew anyone could be scared of their own shadow; I thought it was just a silly phrase. Maybe it is, but I blame the paranoia. My head is starting to creep me out. I need sleep, and soon.

Otherwise, I might just start turning insane.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! Now there are a few chapters, I'm keen to hear what everyone thinks of them. As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	7. The Price

**"The price of the words I could never say**

**Washed the tears of the love away**

**Please, please come back to me."**

**- Ian Broudie, 1990.**

* * *

**The 7th Annual Hunger Games**

**Michelle Patrick (17), District 12 Female**

**The Lightning Seeds- The Price (1990)**

* * *

Run.

That is the only thought that I can get into my head as I scramble up to my feet and begin my escape. I have to get away now. Behind, I can hear the rumbling thunder as the tunnel roof collapses.

"Michelle, wait!" calls Simon, my district partner. He's only fourteen, and can't run as fast as I can. Looking over my shoulder but not stopping, I can see Simon running with only blackness behind him. He's only got as little as five yards over the destruction behind him. Way too close for comfort. Why, oh why, the Gamemakers choose _us_? If they wanted the audience to really care, target the Careers, or that boy from Seven, not us! Not two relatively harmless tributes with little chance of winning!

Maybe the audience want a spectacle at the end of the Games; a final showdown. Probably a battle between the surviving Careers (who have increased in their numbers to six this year, with their inclusion of District 1 this year) and anyone else who can last long enough.

As I'm running my mind flits back through my memories of the arena so far. Five days have passed since twenty-four of Panem's children entered the arena. Of those twenty-four, eleven remain. The five remaining Careers, me and Simon, the high-scoring boy from District 7, three others that I can't place. I couldn't even tell you who's already gone, aside from the girl from Two. I remember seeing her face in the sky clearly. All I do is keep count of the cannons. Thirteen in total so far.

The arena itself is unique in the Games history. The cornucopia was positioned in a large, dark, rocky cavern, with one small opening to the sky where a thin stream trickles down into a pool on the floor of the cavern. It's cold, dark and damp, and all we have by way of light is a small flashlight on a headband that all the tributes were given as a part of the required clothing. As for protection against the cold, there is nothing. No firewood at the cornucopia, no heat sources to be found in the arena. Just cold, damp tunnels interlinking larger caverns. All we have to wear as clothing is black jumpsuits. Although movement is easy, they offer next to no protection against the cold. It's slightly ridiculous how under-prepared the Gamemakers have made us this year.

There's no food, either. All I have is what I managed to grab at the cornucopia. Simon was luckier than me, as we both found backpacks, but his had more food than mine. We've split the food up evenly, though I doubt it'll last much longer than another day. Maybe two, if we're lucky. This really is the Hunger Games. I can imagine losing a couple of tributes to starvation in the coming days. I just hope that one of them isn't me.

Once our own food has run out, I doubt we'll last long. Unlike the Career districts, whose tributes have unbelievable levels of support in the Capitol, District 12 has very few sponsors. Its status as the poorest district of Panem does nothing to help us, plus our dismal record in the early years of the Games. In every other district, one tribute has reached the last six or better from each district, except District 12. Our best finish was a boy called Peter, who came ninth in the first Games. Since then, District 12 has been, quite simply, forgettable.

Of course, Simon and I will become our most successful tributes. As long as one more tribute dies, even if I die afterwards, Simon will finish ninth at worst. But we are a team, and one of us won't suddenly die. Then I remember my current situation and my mind is filled with doubt.

Suddenly, I burst out of the collapsing tunnel and into the large cavern that holds the cornucopia. It takes me a moment to adjust to the natural light levels, but when I do, I'm aware of a tall figure silhouette in the minimal light. The boy from District 7. I'm sure of it.

He's standing near the cornucopia, thirty yards away. I can tell that he spots me, as he turns my way, an unrecognisable weapon in his raised right hand. Ten yards from me, the boy stops, and I can hear Simon, who must have escaped the tunnel, catch up to me, out of breath. His heavy breathing is loud in the silence of the cavern. Surely the other boy must have heard him.

My fears are confirmed as I watch the silhouette shift his wait as his weapon- I think it's an axe- somersaults towards me. Automatically I duck, and I'm powerless to help as I watch the axe sink into my district partner, who had been standing behind me.

Simon cries out, breaking the eerie silence of the cavern. He drops to his knees on the rocky, uneven ground, clutching his stomach, where the boy's axe has penetrated him.

I look away in shock, expecting to find the boy standing over us, but instead he is nowhere to be seen. He's done a runner.

Simon lies on the ground, curled around the axe buried within him, like a young child curled up for sleep. He whimpers quietly, but life is ebbing from him quickly. Not a nice way to go; slowly bleeding out, lying on a cold rock in a dark, damp cave. Certainly not how I'd want to die. But there are no nice deaths in the Hunger Games. Everything about this is brutal.

I don't know why, but I never really thought Simon would die. Well, I knew that if I wanted to get home, he would have to die eventually, but I hadn't ever really realised what death actually means. I've never watched someone die before. At the bloodbath, I'd grabbed a bag and escaped before any real violence had started.

I thought that because we were allies, we would be safe. But I became complacent. I never even feared for Simon's safety when we ran into that tribute. I only thought of my own wellbeing. And now I will be alone. I thought allies would help me, but this is a reminder of how every alliance must eventually conclude. This is the price I must pay for my actions. After all, I was planning on betraying young Simon later in the Games. Cunning and deceit are punished. But I won't be broken by my punishment.

A fourteen-year-old boy, with long, straight black hair, grey eyes and olive skin lies in front of me, his last breaths passing his lips.

It's all I can do to honour him. And so I take a seat on the cold, rocky arena floor, and hold Simon's hand while he dies.


	8. Granite

**A/N: The character for this oneshot, Amadeus, was created as the grandfather of the antagonist in my first fanfic, "Second Time Unlucky". I know I've gone into a lot of detail with him, but there's a whole story in which his family is heavily involved. For this one, the musical influence is minimal. The lyrics of the song (Granite)suggested a corncuopia scene. After that, I abandoned any inspiration and just wrote about a character I created four months ago (as of March 2013).**

**I hope you enjoy Amadeus, I think he's my favourite character of my own creation.**

**"You can hide your eyes, you can dim the lights**

**But they are watching**

**This is a new time with a different kind**

**They**** are the future, the one**

**This is the final call**

**For the setting song as they get closer**

**Now with a fall from grace thy will be done**

**The show is over, it's a new dawn."**

**- Rob Swire, 2008.**

* * *

**The 8th Annual Hunger Games**

**Amadeus Hadrianus Cato (18), District 2 Male**

**Pendulum- Granite (2008)**

* * *

As the initial blinding light fades, I become aware of my surroundings. The arena. The place where all my family's ambitions will be realised.

I'm not a District 2 child; not really, anyway. Eighteen years ago, I was born a Capitol citizen. My grandfather, Tobias Flint, was the vice-president of Panem, under the control of President Shawcross, just as it is today. But when I was one and a half, there came the August bomb plots.

A group of fanatical anti-Capitol terrorists (in the pay of District 13, I may add) had an assassination attempt foiled. Many of the senior ministers in Capitol government were agents of Thirteen, but one of the few honest ministers was framed; my grandfather. Framed by one of the traitors, Valentin Greenwood. And to this day, his crimes go unpunished. Now Greenwood is vice-president, and he denies any interaction with District 13.

Shawcross couldn't see past the accusations, and at only just over a year old, me and my family were exiled for a life in the districts. Sent to District 2, my grandfather decided to make his own stand against the Capitol. He would prove his worth to them; so that the Capitol would be faced with regrets over the issue, now recognised to be the beginning of the end of pre-war Panem.

He didn't stop there. When war broke out openly after an altercation between District 4 and their quarterly fishing quota, my grandfather enlisted in the military, and over the next six years, he quite literally was willing to give his life for the cause, taking control of countless missions with near-zero odds of survival. Then during the fifth spring of the war, his makeshift base in District 9 was bombed by rebel forces. Despite severe burns on his upper legs, Major Tobias Flint pulled seven of his fellow officers from the burning wreckage before collapsing due to exhaustion.

He received a medal for his bravery. But no apology for him being unfairly accused. Surely they must know.

My grandfather was released from the military and spent the remaining fourteen months of the war slowly recovering. But he would make the Capitol sit up and take notice of him, even if his wartime actions didn't give him the respect he deserved. So he changed tactic. And his name.

In the Capitol, male children are traditionally named in a foreign language, from a place that our historians call Rome. Latin, I believe their language is called. And to prove that my grandfather was as Capitol as anyone, my grandfather changed his name to a traditional Roman name; Tobias Augustus Cato. No name could be more perfect than Cato, which means wise. He certainly thinks that the Capitol lacked wisdom with his treatment.

And Tobias Cato made it big in District 2. A politician turned businessman, he had an eye for money. By my fourteenth birthday, shortly after the victory tour for the 3rd Annual Hunger Games, in which my district member Augustus Holt had emerged victorious, my grandfather was a rich man; rivalling the mayor, even. And yet the Capitol still didn't notice him.

In April, three months before the Games, Augustus Holt came and spoke to our eligible children about the prospects of letting the district's strongest volunteering, to ensure that we get another victor. Augustus spoke of a lifetime of not wanting; food, money, you name it, a victor gets it. But this didn't interest me; the Cato family had plenty of money. But Augustus also spoke of eternal glory for the victor; a career as a celebrity. Tonnes of media attention. And I was hooked.

This was how we could make the Capitol take notice of us. By defeating their twisted Games, on the greatest stage of all, in front of the whole nation. I would have to prepare myself, but by the age of eighteen, I would be strong enough to volunteer.

Naturally, I'm well-built, tall and muscular, but training is as important as strength. Of course, training for the Games is illegal, but Augustus did all he could to bend the rules. After building up a friendly relationship with his fellow victor, Fraser Reynolds of District 4, the two victors-come-mentors agreed to get their tributes to ally, increasing their chances of survival in the arena. Since then, the alliance has reached the latter stages of the 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th Games.

Of course, part of that is due to the fact that Augustus and Fraser have taken risks to train their own tributes for the Games. For a couple of years, I attended Augustus' small-scale Training Centre, which has slowly grown each year. Then Augustus received a surprise visit to his Centre from none other than President Shawcross. From what me and my fellow trainee Ignotus overheard, the President has agreed to turn a blind eye to the Training Centre. After all, everyone in Two knows about it, and even if the Capitol audience find out, they won't care as long as the Games are entertaining. That's all the President cares about, really. As long as his Games are a success, he doesn't mind how or why.

The next two years of my training let me stand out from the average trainee. Taller. Faster. Stronger. I would be perfect for the arena. Six weeks ago, I won the trials; mock Hunger Games held in the Training Centre. The victor wins the prize of being able to volunteer for the real thing. Of course, I won the boys' mock Games easily. And then I volunteered.

As with previous years, I'm expected to join the alliance of trained tributes, nicknamed the 'Careers' by all those other than Districts 2 and 4. Even District 1, who became a part of the alliance two years ago, call themselves Career Tributes. Some stupid nickname one of the tributes from the outlying districts gave us. Then again, it doesn't matter what we're called; we're still going to kill them.

The six of us this year are quite varied. My district partner, Tulip, is the weakest of us. Only scored a six. How she won the female trials back home, I don't know. She's useless.

Both tributes from District 4 are quite weak this year, too. I could see this on the first day. I haven't even bothered to learn their names. All I know is that neither of them are particularly talented, and both scored sevens in training.

Then there is the girl from One, Ruby, who whilst having a decent skill with ranged weapons, her strength is so pitiful that she'll never win. Despite this, she scored an eight; higher than half her allies.

Then come myself and the boy from District 1, Nova. I outscored him by one training point, an eleven to his ten, but we are evenly matched, and so much stronger the other twenty-two. We've not told our mentors, but we've turned our back on the alliance. We don't need to work with them; we just have each other, and that's all we'll need. They are just high-value targets. I don't plan on any of our other so-called allies surviving the bloodbath at the cornucopia. That is one thing that I'm definite will occur in these Games.

Now that my temporary blindness has faded, I can get a good look at the arena. It's warm, and the sun shines down every bit as strongly in the arena as it does on a summer's day in District 2. The landscape itself is barren; largely sand and dirt, with sand dunes rolling into the distance, as far as the eye can see. There is a slight wind, and when it picks up, I have to put my hand in front of my eyes to shield them from flying sand.

As ever, the twenty-four pedestals are situated around the golden horn that is the cornucopia, where the choice supplies are stored. Other less necessary or lower quality supplies are strewn in the space between the pedestals and the cornucopia, increasing in value the closer into the horn they are. I'm planning on going straight in, so it doesn't matter to me where anything is; I should get the choice, anyway.

Looking around for my ally, Nova is four pedestals to my left. Tall, just an inch shorter than me at six foot one, and with long blond hair, Nova is easily recognisable.

Looking around for my other 'allies', both of the tributes from Four are almost opposite to me, and Ruby is near them, too. My district partner, Tulip, is six or seven pedestals on my right, near the boy from Four. They have no idea what's coming. The greatest betrayal in the history of the Hunger Games is about to occur. I need to make these Games memorable for my family, and what better way than silencing these incompetent fools? It's as though they're asking for me to kill them.

Then the gong sounds, and I'm plunged into chaos. I immediately tackle the girl next to me to the floor, who's indecisive on where to go. Leaving her winded on the floor, I quickly stand over her, kick her hard in the head for good measure, and move towards the cornucopia. I'll come back to her later. She won't have moved anywhere, after all.

Entering the cornucopia, I see Ruby leave, armed with a bow and arrow. I watch as she calmly shoots down two short girls before I enter the horn.

Inside, the boy from Four is organising weapons. He holds two swords in his hands.

"Amadeus!" he calls. I feel slightly guilty realising that he knows my name, and I know nothing of him. Then I have to remind myself that I don't care; he'll be dead soon, anyway.

"Want a sword?" he asks, as I attach a sheath to my belt. I nod in reply, and he throws me a sword.

Two seconds later, I'm pulling the blade from his chest, catching his limp body as the red-headed boy falls. I crudely shove the body behind a supply crate and throw his sword behind another box.

As I return to the exit of the cornucopia, I watch Ruby shoot down the boy from District 7 before cleaving her in half from behind with my sword. I didn't even think twice about killing two of the tributes who should have been my allies.

I sheath my sword, and bend down to Ruby's decimated corpse and take her bow, putting her quiver of eight arrows over my shoulder. As I look up, I watch Nova's spear penetrate my district partner just above the collarbone. Even though she was my only connection with home in this arena, I'm emotionless as I watch her falling backwards into the sand, screaming.

Looking around, the best part of ten tributes must be dead. Two more are fighting nearby, and I watch as Nova scythes through the pair, who I believe were from Five and Twelve, with a sickle that he must have taken from a dead tribute. He runs over to where I stand in the mouth of the cornucopia.

"Got a sword?" he asks as he arrives next to me, sweat pouring down his face. Only seeing the perspiration on his face do I realise how hot it is. Suddenly my clothes feel drenched in my own sweat. But there's no point complaining; the arena was never going to be an easy ride.

"There's one at the back, but I hid it," I reply. "Just look around the bodies and the crates, and you'll find it."

"Bodies?"

"Yeah, District Four," I say casually.

Nova just laughs and runs inside the horn. My attention returns to the remaining tributes of the bloodbath, and I ready my bow with an arrow. Although a sword is my strongest weapon, four years at the Training Centre has made me more than competent with a bow, too. I easily take down the short girl that I had tackled to the ground earlier, who had only just regained her senses. Now that I have a better look at her, I can see that she's from District 3.

Then Nova runs out of the cornucopia wielding a sword and brutally cuts down the final two tributes that remain who were fighting over a lone combat knife. It's not as though the knife would ever have caused much damage to either Nova or myself. Not in their incompetent hands, anyway.

We regroup, worn-out due to the heat, and assess the damage dealt. Even just at a first glance, I can tell that more have died in the bloodbath than usual, where the death toll is usually between nine and eleven. This year, there must be fifteen, at least. Suddenly, I hear a call from behind.

"Hey! Traitors! Over here!"

It's the girl from District 4. I thought she must have died earlier, but here she is, armed with only a hatchet. She must have some guts speaking to us like that, but I know she's scared, and rightly so.

Nova takes two confident steps towards her, his weapon at the ready, and I know what I must do.

The girl walks quickly backwards. Shaking her head and waving us away.

"No, I-"

Dead.

The girl collapses, an arrow in her right iris. I lower my bow and smirk slightly. I can't deny that I'm a good shot with a bow, but an arrow to the eye is flattering my abilities. Then again, I won't complain about it. After all, it gave me an easy kill, and it's bound to impress the sponsors.

Nova laughs as the girl falls and returns to me.

"Nice shot," he chuckles.

Then the first cannon sounds.

At the end of the bloodbath, each tribute that is now dead is marked with a cannon. Normally a cannon fires as soon as a tribute dies, but during the bloodbath, deaths are too frequent and it's hard to follow exactly what's going on, so the cannons are delayed until the bloodbath is over.

Nova and I stand in silence, counting the cannon blasts. One... Two... All the way up to sixteen. _Sixteen!_ Never before has more than half the field been killed in the bloodbath. Me and Nova certainly did a good job of wiping out the opposition. Trying to work out how many deaths I was responsible for, I realise that I can't remember exactly what happened. I'd guess I killed at least five, but I don't know, and nor do I care.

Nova and I spend the next twenty minutes choosing what supplies to take with us. As there are only two of us, we don't want to carry anything unnecessary.

Finally, we are ready to leave and hunt down the remaining six tributes, excluding ourselves. We stand at the exit of the cornucopia, trying to decide which way to go.

"Come on, let's just choose a way randomly," Nova says impatiently. "We need to leave to let the hovercrafts collect the bodies."

"We?"

"Yeah, 'we'. We're allies, you know," jokes Nova.

I turn to face the boy from District 1, trying to keep my face and actions serious as I do so.

"Nova, I've got something to tell you about this alliance..." I say, trying to sound serious.

Nova tenses slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks, slightly alarmed.

"I lied."

In the half a second that it takes Nova to realise what I mean, my blade is already at his neck. Half a second his later, his severed head is on the floor, his deep green eyes staring vacantly up at me, a picture of shock and fear on his face. I step aside to watch his body fall, and I laugh as his body lands chest-down on the sand.

I laugh to myself as I slowly walk out into the dunes alone. Did that fool really think I'd let him live any longer. I was planning on ditching him by the final eight, anyway. Maybe the final eight has come around sooner than I would have liked, but after that, Nova would become too much of liability. Too much of a threat. I needed to get rid of him, and quickly.

Even though physically he was a match for me, I knew I was more intelligent than him. And I'm ruthless. I'll do anything it takes to win. And I think that action will make my Games unforgettable if I win, securing the Cato name a place in history. Maybe my victory will return my family to its former glory. Maybe my victory will give our family enough notice from the Capitol for our exile to be ended.

All I need to do is win, and with only six more tributes standing between me and victory, all of them low scoring tributes from the outer districts, I wouldn't bet against me leaving this arena alive. Then again, I always thought that I would. For grandfather.

And at the rate that tributes are falling, I might even be out of here by tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N: If you liked Amadeus, please read "Second Time Unlucky", the story for which he was created. There's some more of him in the later chapters of that story.**


	9. The Rain Song

**"These are the seasons of our emotions and like the winds they fall**

**This is the wonder of devotion - I see the torch we all must hold**

**This is the mystery of the quotient - upon us all a little rain must fall."**

**- Robert Plant, 1973.**

* * *

**The 9th Annual Hunger Games**

**Jared Parker (16), District 5 Male**

**Led Zeppelin- The Rain Song (1973)**

* * *

I trudge on as silently as I can through the mud, keeping my distance from the trees. The monotony of the arena is wearing us down. All of us. Every day we wake to the same surroundings and the same horrendous weather. Ten days ago, when twenty-four of us entered the arena, the heavens opened. And for the ten of us who remain, it's raining just as heavily as it was on the morning of the bloodbath.

As ever, there's a well-stocked pack of four Careers roaming the woods that cover half the arena. Tall, coniferous pines, Douglas firs and the like. There are a few back home, on the fringes of the district, but here they are in abundance.

The other half of the arena is a combination of grass and mud, though mud is becoming the more prominent surface as the days go by. The whole arena is being turned into a quagmire by the relentless rain. Looking down at my sodden feet, which are still encased in thin, soft leather boots, I can see at least six inches of standing water before the mud begins. In places, I sink down almost to my knees.

Considering my height, I wouldn't have been surprised if the twelve-year-old boy from District 7 who died yesterday had fallen into the mud and got himself trapped. Death by either drowning or starvation would have followed. Neither option sounds pleasant to me.

I'm starting to feel insecure about joining him in a watery grave, and I really should move to the woods. My food supply for the last week, small brown rabbits, is dwindling. Their numbers have decreased dramatically in the last few days. I haven't even seen one since yesterday, and there's only a couple of hours left until nightfall.

My other vital supply, water, is becoming an issue too. I've been using a small bottle of iodine solution to treat the water, but due to the appalling quality of the standing water, I've been going through more iodine than I anticipated. I'll run out soon, unless I find a cleaner water source, and quickly.

So I'm covering the ground slowly yet steadily towards the pine forest. In the forest, there will be less standing water due to the canopy, which will aid movement, and there should still be some squirrels in the branches of the pines. Food shouldn't be an issue anymore.

However, I will have to deal with the Careers. Both from District 1, the boys from Two and Four. The girl from District 2 was killed off at the cornucopia bloodbath, back when our feet were in contact with solid, non-waterlogged ground. A luxury which we can no longer obtain.

The girl from Four died three or four days ago, and I've no idea why. I haven't seen the Careers since the first day. I've always assumed that they would stick to the woods, and after nine days in the grasslands without spotting them, I think I was right.

I don't like the woods; plenty of obstacles, things to trip you, plants and trees to sneak up on someone unsuspectingly. I'll have to be on my guard constantly once I'm in the woods. Well, I'm always on guard now, but I can't afford to slip up in the woods at all. I'd guess that at least seven of the ten remaining tributes have taken to the woods.

And as the arena fades to darkness, which usually offers me a chill, plentiful paranoia and if I'm lucky, there might be a couple of hours of sleep. But tonight, I need to get into the woods.

There are no landmarks in the grassland (or should I say mudland? There's so much of the stuff underfoot) so it feels like I'm getting nowhere. Or maybe I'm really moving that slowly. Ugh. This is really messing with my head.

I'll just keep my head down and half-walk, half-wade through the standing water and mud. It's tiring; the lack of decent footing is straining my ankles and it's starting to hurt. Soon I might-

_Oh, no._

Looking up, I've spotted someone. Fifty yards in front of me, wading around nearer the woods. They look to be about fourteen or fifteen, and in the gloom of the rain, I can't fathom their identity. But they are armed, I can see the mace in their left hand. As long as they don't-

They turned round.

There's nowhere to hide, and I can't go for a silent escape, because of all the mud and water. Too noisy. I'm absolutely certain that whoever this boy is, he's spotted me. Not a Career; he's too lightly built. But from looking at the faces in the sky, the boys from Districts 3, 6, and 11 are still alive. As well as the Career males, of course. Could it be a Career, hunting on their own whilst the others prepare a camp? Or could it be a Career who has left the pack behind, and split from the alliance? Maybe my first look at him misjudged him, and actually I've got a trained killer hot on my heels?

I can hear splashing behind me, and I know that they are in pursuit. I have to keep going.

After what feels like eternity, I find ground that is slightly less giving, and turn back to assess the situation.  
The boy who I can now identify as the boy from District 1- it was a Career- is only five yards behind me. He's no physical wonder like Amadeus Cato, last year's victor, who won the Games in twenty-two hours, but this boy looks stronger and better-trained than I am. And he's armed.

I have nowhere to turn. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

The blond-haired boy lunges for me with his mace, but I dodge to the right to escape his blow. Being taller and heavier than me, the boy- I don't even know his name- has enough momentum in him to topple and collapse into the mud with a tremendous splash, covering me in muddy water. It'll take him a minute to get back up, and that gives me time to evade the Career.

I guess I've travelled twenty yards when the cries for help begin. Worried but curious, I slowly return to the boy.  
When I arrive where he fell, the boy is face-down in the mud. He's coughing and spluttering, desperately trying to keep his head above water.

I had expected scenes like this from the moment I was reaped, but actually seeing them is still a massive shock. I stare at the boy, who looks like he is slowly being pulled under, absolutely stunned.

I could save this boy. I _should_ save this boy. Nobody deserves this death. Actually, nobody of this age deserves death, no matter who they are.

But this is the Hunger Games. In the arena, it's kill or be killed. And two minutes ago, this boy was trying to kill me.

I force myself to look away rather than watch the boy from District 1 get dragged under.


	10. Escapee

**"This escapee was never going to stay**

**On an island way too difficult to be stuck in the daze**

**And all the competition's overcome what may**

**Temptation's not a word until you've let it go astray."**

**- Cameron Bird, 2011.**

* * *

**The 10th Annual Hunger Games**

**Armando Naseby (17), District 4 Male**

**Architecture In Helsinki- Escapee (2011)**

* * *

The night sky is calm and cloudless, and I amuse myself by looking upwards at all the constellations. I've been in here for four days, and each day, the faces of the dead have been projected in front of me. Eleven in total now. Thirteen of us remain.

Here, lying on the banks of a wide, deep river, the remains of my alliance are sleeping. I'm supposed to be on watch, but we're so far from the cornucopia, I doubt that anyone's within a mile of us.

Twenty yards from the river's edge begins the jungle. That horrible, crowded, hot place that none of us dare to tackle alone. No vision, and the chances of surprise attacks is dramatically increased. Out in the open, any of us would win one-on-one fights against other tributes.

Except if we fight each other. Against each other, I'm probably second or third best.

Katya, our weakest, would be easy prey, when the time comes. No issues with her. Marcus, the boy from Two, will cause some trouble; strong and well-trained, but he is short-tempered. After what he did to the girl from Twelve on day two, I really, really don't want to anger him.

I know that Leo, the boy from District 1, is by far the strongest tribute in the arena. He's the only one to score double figures in training this year, and easily the one that is trained to the highest level. He's the one that the rest of us have to watch out for.

And that's it for our four-man alliance. Our other two allies are already dead.

Veronica, the girl from Two, was killed off by us after she suffered severe injuries in a fight with the boy from District 11. The boy died, of course, but not before causing a deep gash in Veronica's thigh with his knife. Judging by her condition, we had to finish her off. Veronica would have died from blood loss or blood poisoning within a couple of days anyway, and in the meantime she would've been a hinderance to the rest of us.

And the girl from District 1, whose name I never bothered to learn, was killed by us four last night. Not because she was a bad fighter (she scored second highest of anyone this year), but because of her attitude. Her arrogance, that cocky swagger that she thought was intimidating and her witty remarks about the rest of us all contributed to her own downfall. We didn't kill her for any reason, except that we wanted her to shut the hell up.

And now, a day later, with the numbers declining even further, I feel as though I've run the mileage out of this alliance. Looking at the others, it's either me or Katya that will be turned on next. And Katya's rather friendly with Marcus, so it'll probably be me. Knowing this, I think I need to take my leave. Since the death of the girl from One, I've been careful to keep a good stock of supplies in my backpack at all times, in case I need to make a quick escape. In the the faint moonlight, this is my chance. I might not get another opportunity like this for days.

Getting to my feet on the sandy banks of the river, I turn to leave my allies behind. Keeping my small knife in my left hand (my spear won't be much use in the close quarters of the jungle), I edge away quietly.

When I reach the edge of the woods, I turn back and crouch in the undergrowth, watching the three remaining Careers lying asleep. They look so vulnerable. Hopefully someone will stumble across them and kill one of them in their sleep, making my job even easier. No, wait. Why do I need someone to kill them off for me, when I can do it myself, right now?

I edge back towards the river, trying not to wake the three tributes, who lie together on the sand. I crouch by them, and pause, trying to formulate a plan.

Killing a tribute won't be silent, but I need it to be as quiet as possible. Any noise could risk waking the others. And if I can only kill one, Leo needs to be the one to go.

I shuffle round so that I am crouching by Leo's side. He lies on his back, apparently fast asleep. I know that for a quick, silent death, I'll need to slit his throat, expertly and efficiently. I've never done it for real before, but I know how it's done. We were taught how to in the Training Centre, back at home in District 4.

It doesn't bother me that I'm killing someone. I've killed twice so far in these Games, excluding the Careers that we betrayed. Both times were at the cornucopia; the sixteen-year-old boy from Three, and the younger girl from District 6. And this life is necessary to take. Leo is much more of a threat to me than either of those two were.

Trying to concentrate on the job that must be done, I quickly clamp my right hand over Leo's mouth, and pull back his head, exposing his bare neck. It jolts him awake, but before he has time to say anything, my blade has left a bloody gash through his neck. He tries to scream, but no sound comes, and I can see his green eyes bulge in pain and terror for a moment, then they gloss over, dead.

I stand over Leo's body, pleased with the effectiveness of my work. Silent and deadly. That's the way it needs to-

_Bang._

Oh, how could I forget the cannon? I'm awful for such oversights. I didn't think my plan through. I see Marcus stir, and I turn to run down the sand, as opposed to crashing my way through the jungle. I only get thirty yards before I hear Katya's screams, and I know that Leo's body has been seen.

In the weak moonlight, I see the glint of a blade somersault over my shoulder and land in the sand ten feet in front of me. Marcus must have enough sense about him to start throwing.

Turning, I launch my spear in his direction, but my throw is poorly aimed, and the spear lands in the river, five yards to Marcus' right.

I can hear Marcus shouting at me, but I can't make out his words. All I care about is making my escape, and leaving my former allies behind, to fend for themselves without Leo's guidance.

I know that I'm a faster runner than Marcus, and I'm out of sight within a couple of minutes. Once I know that I'm no longer being pursued, I turn away from the river and into the thick jungle.

At night, all you can hear is the white noise of the insects, but I don't care at the moment. No doubt it'll annoy me later on, but right now, I'm just glad that I can't hear the enraged voices of my former allies.

I've made it. No longer are the Careers a constant threat. Now, away from the other strong tributes, betrayal is no longer an issue. I'm the traitor, not them.

But from now on, I'm on my own...

* * *

**A/N: 10 Games in, only 65 to go! Now that the story is well underway, I'm really keen to hear what you, the reader, think about the first 10 oneshots, so pleae review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)**

**P.S. The next Games will have a familiar face...**


	11. Colours

**A/N: Thanks for continuing to read this story, the support means a lot to me! Special thanks to richards25, Vykktor, Purplo9 and Violagirl23, who are my reviewers from the first ten chapters.**

**There's a familiar face in this chapter. Hopefully you'll enjoy it :)**

**"Raise the flag up for the noise**

**Wake the dogs up, call the boys**

**Are you ready for the war?**

**Bring your colours to the floor."**

**- Keith Flint, 2009.**

* * *

**The 11th Annual Hunger Games**

**Margaret 'Mags' Tyler (17), District 4 Female**

**The Prodigy- Colours (2009)**

* * *

Despite the humidity, the wind gives a cooling effect as I stand atop the outcrop of rock, looking down over the island. The wind tousles my long, light brown hair, which now flows back over my shoulders. I lean into the strong wind to keep my balance, so much so that if the wind were to stop, I would topple over the edge. Thinking about this, I lower myself to the ground and find a seat among the rocks and stare down at the devastated land beneath me.

Two hundred feet below this rock outcrop, there is the rest of the arena. An island, nearly all covered in a jungle similar to that of last year's Games, with white sandy beaches surrounding the perimeter. Amongst what remains of the jungle after this morning, there are four tributes remaining. Of those, I can see one, blackened by the fire, straggling along the edge what remains of the greenery by the coast. I think they're male, so they are from Districts 2, 5 or 7, but I can't tell which. Not from this distance. Whoever it is, I doubt they'll last long.

In comparison to the boy on the beach, I've had an easy time in the Games. Before the Games, I was chosen to represent District 4 when I won the trial Games in the Training Centre, a month before the reaping. Unlike the usual tributes from District 4, I didn't win due to my strength, stamina or technical ability. I won because I am a survivor. Because I could find a way to survive where the other trainees could not. Of course, being a mock-up of the Games, nobody really died, but if those Games had been the real thing, I would be a victor by now.

This year, at the reaping, the trainers at the Training Centre (previous victors Fraser, Adrienne and Armando) have changed what they expect from trials winners.

Until this year, the winner of the two trials (one male trials, one female trials) would volunteer as tribute, no matter who is chosen from the reaping bowl. However, even for a Career tribute such as those from District 4, chances of survival in the arena are slim.

So that we didn't just throw our lives away, we had been instructed not to volunteer if the chosen child had any chance of winning. We (myself and the male trials winner, Adrian) had been told not to volunteer if the reaped child was fourteen years old or older. Although the youngest victor of the Games was District 9's Charity Green (aged 16 at the time), a fourteen-year-old came second last year, showing that anyone as young as fourteen stands a chance in the arena.

So Adrian and I were instructed to volunteer if the reaped child was aged twelve or thirteen. And when a name was pulled from the girl's bowl at this year's reaping, the name belonged to Danica Davis, a twelve-year-old. And so I volunteered for her.

In the male bowl, a fourteen-year-old called Kyle Bennett was reaped. Not particularly strong, but due to his status as being from District 4, he was welcomed into the Career Alliance during training. He even managed to get a score of seven from the Gamemakers. It was low for a Career, but not disastrous.

I, however, shunned the other Careers from the moment I arrived in the Capitol. I knew from the moment that I volunteered that I would win the Games the same way I won the trials in District 4; I would outlast the opposition.

I still have reasonable weapons skills; six years at the Training Centre have made me rather lethal. But I don't like to use weapons. I'm no murderer. Still, they helped me pull a nine in training, further confusing the five Careers I abandoned.

When we arrived in the arena, the cornucopia was set down on the beach at the south end of the island. I didn't run into the bloodbath, but grabbed the nearest backpack and escaped into the woods. I was lucky that the backpack contained a knife.

Since that first day, when I ascended the mountain for higher ground, I've barely lost the height advantage. I have remained constantly near the summit, only venturing ten or twenty yards into the woods for the nuts and berries that are my sustenance. As for warmth, I keep a continual fire, which serves a dual purpose, as it distills water for me. I collect water using coconut shells from the sea, and let the cool underside of rocks to condense the water again. Personally, I see it as quite a clever solution, considering I have no iodine solution to purify the water, and none of my sponsors have bothered to send me any. However, my sponsors have bothered to send me extra matches, to ensure that my distillation fire that is the key to my survival stays alight. Only when I realised that I had an abundance of matches (I seldom let the fire out) two days ago did I come up with the idea of the fire trap.

Using fires built of dead wood to start the blaze, I could get the whole jungle to catch fire. No doubt a few would perish in the inferno, and the others would fight it out amongst themselves before coming for me. An armed Career with an altitude advantage. The others would be foolish to come for me unless nobody else is left.

Then, this morning, on day thirteen in the arena, with nine tributes remaining, I lit the fires. And everything worked perfectly.

The inferno spread quickly about the island, obliterating the jungle. Amidst the myriad of colours as the arena burned, chaos ensued. One cannon. Two cannons. Two more. Four dead in half an hour, and the arena wasted. I can tell that the Gamemakers played a part in their deaths; the fire spread too quickly to be entirely natural. At least the Gamemakers are on my side. For now.

Looking back down at the struggling figure on the beach, I can see another, slightly shorter figure approaching the boy from behind. I can only tell who this tribute is by the unmistakable streak of silver through the long black hair of the eighteen-year-old girl from District 3. And even from a mile away, I can see the blade glint in her hand as she lunges for the boy.

Then the cannon sounds and the boy lies dead on the sand, and the dark-haired girl from Three blends into the ashes of the jungle once more.

Now only four of us remain in the arena. And of those that remain, I should be the favourite. I'm a Career. I'm in control of the most favourable location in the arena; the mountain-top. I'm armed and unscathed. Soon the sponsors will be flooding in. And then the remainder of the Games will be a formality.

But for now, I'm going to hold my ground and stay where I am.

I'm the Queen of the hill, and the other tributes will have to dethrone me if they want to leave this arena alive.

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**A/N: Please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	12. Fleeting Trust

**A/N: Special thanks to nevergone4ever and richards25, who reviewed the last chapter :)**

**Sorry if this chapter is a bit short! I've got a lot going on this weekend. I hope that you enjoy it anyway :)**

**"With fleeting trust in hand, and with what I am**

**With fleeting trust I walk in and walk out with no pain and no doubt."**

**- Colin MacDonald, 2003.**

* * *

**The 12th Annual Hunger Games**

**Melissa Sayer (18), District 6 Female**

**The Trews- Fleeting Trust (2003)**

* * *

I crouch in the shadows, trying to keep my breathing under control. I thought that I would be safe in here. But apparently not; the Careers are nearby.

Daring to look down over the cracked streets and broken buildings from this third-floor apartment, I can see the three remaining Careers slowly patrolling the streets. I notice both tributes from District 1 and the girl from Four. I'm not sure exactly what weapons they have, but I definitely notice the glint of a blade in the sun. Maybe two. I can't tell from this high up.

In the balcony of the apartment next to me is my ally, Daniel Farmer of District 10. Tall and athletic, I'm grateful for the tentative alliance that I've formed with Dan since the Games began.

Twelve days ago, twenty-four of us were dropped into this arena, a ruinous city, very much in the mould of the Capitol, with wide streets and high blocks of flats and apartment buildings. It all looks the same, and it's easy to get lost in this concrete jungle. Since the start of the Games, we've faced extreme weather and an earthquake that destroyed the main thoroughfare through the city, cutting off half the arena from us. And then there were the mutts.

Strange, terrifying creatures, human-shaped but made of ice, so cold that it burned when they touched you. There was no way of fighting them off, the only option was escape. Dan was affected by them more than I was. He tried to fight, even when I told him that resistance would be futile. Looking across at him, I can still see the deep burns in his right forearm, where the nightmarish creatures wouldn't let go. I know it hurts him, as we've had no parachutes containing medicine, but he doesn't want to show it.

I'm not entirely sure how we got away. We were running, only just forcing a gap of twenty metres between us and them, and then just as suddenly as the horrid things arrived, they were gone. I presume that the Gamemakers recalled them, thinking that their damage was done. To be honest, I don't really care why they are gone, just as long as they aren't near us anymore.

Other than me and Dan, I know little of the other tributes, as we've barely seen anyone since the Games began. From watching the faces in the sky, I know that two of the Careers died on the first day, presumably in the cornucopia bloodbath.

After escaping the carnage, I teamed up with Dan, who was armed with a bow and six arrows. Knowing me to be a high-scoring tribute, he was willing to let me ally, no doubt just for protection. If I'm honest, that's why I've stayed with him. Together, we are more powerful, and less tributes will try to oppose us.

That first night, Dan told me that he injured the boy from Four in the bloodbath, but didn't think it was a fatal blow. Someone else must have finished off the Career, as his face was in the sky that night.

Last night, the face of the boy from District 2 was in the sky. I guess that the ice mutts got to him. Thinking back, there were two cannons during our battle with the mutts, and one of them would have belonged to District 2.

And now the three remaining Careers are underneath us, hunting down the other three tributes who remain. Me, Dan, and another. Nobody who was high-scoring, or I would have remembered to track their progress in the arena.

The arena is silent, and underneath us, I can faintly hear the talk of the Careers.

"Shouldn't we take a break? We've been searching for hours!"

"No, we don't stop until we find Districts Six and Ten."

"Do we check in here?"

"Yeah, we might as well. A couple of apartments are probably intact."

I hear footsteps in the lobby two floors below me. They are coming in. Dan jumps the five feet between my balcony and his, so that we are together when the Careers arrive.

"They'll find us now," Dan whispers in my ear.

I nod and reply quietly.

"It's too high to jump out of the balcony, isn't it?"

"Yes," replies Dan. "But there is only one doorway to the apartment. We just need to guard the entrance."

I nod in reply as we tiptoe as quietly as possible through the apartment. My hand goes to my waist and grips the small knife in my belt tightly. I'm ready for what will be the fight of my life.

Me and Dan stand on either side of the doorway leading into the flat, awaiting the arrival of our adversaries. As I hear the Careers arrive on our floor, I'm aware that if we survive this attack, only three tributes will be left alive in the arena. At that point, any fleeting trust that our alliance has given me and Dan will be broken. After this, everyone will fight for themselves.

Then the door opens, and all hell breaks loose.

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**A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	13. Showdown

**A/N: Special thanks to richards25 and Violagirl23 for reviewing the last chapter!**

**"Well, it's been such a long time coming, I thought you'd understand."**

**- Rob Swire, 2008.**

* * *

**The 13th Annual Hunger Games**

**Rose Taylor (17), District 2 Female**

**Pendulum- Showdown (2008)**

* * *

I've known for years that this day would come. Ever since I first joined the Training Centre five years ago aged just twelve, the trainers have always told us that the hardest part of the Games is when the time comes for you to fight your district partner. You should only fight them as a last resort. You should treat your partner as an ally, even within the Career alliance. Defend them over all others.

So, when I was on the train to the Capitol after volunteering for the 13th Annual Hunger Games, I was surprised when my mentor, Augustus, a tall aryan who won the Games ten years ago, tells me not to trust my district partner, eighteen-year-old Crassus. Headstrong and short-tempered, Crassus will never put the group ahead of himself. Plus, he's too stupid to be a good tactical planner, so he'll never survive the arena on his own. Augustus says he was amazed that Crassus survived the reaping trials. I know that the other two Career districts have similar trials, where all tributes from the district who wish to volunteer take part in a mock Games to decide who is worthy of volunteering. I've heard that unlike my district, District 4 don't use proper weapons in their trials. I killed four times to win my trial.

In District 1, the trials are similar, but so many children want to volunteer that being chosen by the Training Centre means next to nothing. In District 1, the first volunteer to reach the stage is chosen. The only benefit of winning the trials is that the winner gets to stand at the front of the crowds at the reaping, giving them the best chance of reaching the stage first.

Of the six Careers this year, only five of us were trained. The girl from District 1 was just a fast runner who reached the stage first. We let her join the alliance, as per our mentors' instruction, but she was too weak to be of any use, and we turned on her on the second days.

The boy from District 4, Michael, was severely injured in a fight with the girl from District 9, and a mutt attack took out the girl from Four and separated myself and the boy from District 1, Sheen, from Crassus. Since that day, we have wandered the arena, a bitterly cold, snowy pine forest, slowly watching the numbers decrease. I've lost track of how many days it has been since I entered the arena, but it's over twenty. Since the split with Crassus a week ago, the other three tributes who remained have been dealt with, presumably by my district partner. Sheen and I haven't spotted anyone in that time.

And then today came the blizzard. Not the most original trap from the Gamemakers, but it's effective. Faced with even colder conditions and a lack of visibility, I have followed Sheen away from the storm until we reached the clearing that holds the cornucopia. Now, as we see Crassus burst from the woods thirty yards from our position, I realise that this will be the final battle of the Games.

Eager to fight, I charge at my district partner, who is still out of breath after evading the blizzard. As I reach him, Sheen's spear flies over my shoulder, far too close for comfort. I can tell almost immediately that it was aimed at me due to the fact that it barely reaches Crassus, and it was five metres wide of him. But now that Sheen has no ranged attack, he's not as much of a threat as Crassus. My adversary raises his own weapon, a one-handed combat axe, to parry my blow, but my sword slices straight through his handle, and the blade of his axe lands on the floor by his feet.

Weaponless, Crassus swings a punch at me, and I move my blade to meet him. Crassus screams as my sword lodges in his forearm, and as he struggles to free his arm, I swing the sword again, causing a deep gash in Crassus' chest.

My district partner cries out in pain as he drops to his knees in front of me, weaponless. This will be so easy now. I raise my blade to swing for his neck, but as I try to strike, I find that I can't.

As much as I know that I should finish this boy, I can't force myself to do it. He's from home. I shouldn't kill him. I know that in the trials, I killed four girl from Two, but back then, District 2 was all around me. Here in the arena, District 2 is just a memory, and Crassus is the only physical reminder of home. I stand with my sword raised in indecision for a second or two. Crassus hasn't even moved; he's made no attempt to save himself. He knows that the game over for him. Crassus' willingness to die plus the imminent threat of Sheen is what convinces me to end Crassus' life. I turn away before his head touches the ground.

Turning to face Sheen, I find the boy from One ten yards from me, his sword drawn. As he lunges for me, I dodge to the right and his sword cuts through the air. I swing for his torso before he has time to react, but somehow he manages to edge backwards slightly. My blade rips the fabric of his coat, but no flesh was harmed.

Then before I can react, his sword comes down hard on me, sinking through my shoulder. I drop my sword and fall into the snow, my shoulder burning with agony.

I lie on my back in the snow and I see Sheen over me, his sword raised. My hand fumbles for the knife in my belt, and before Sheen can lower his sword onto me, I plunge my knife into his foot.

Sheen reels backwards, cursing in pain, giving me time to decide what to do next. I position myself and throw my knife at my unarmed opponent. Luckily, the knife finds him just below his eye socket and Sheen falls into the snow, screaming.

I try to stand to finish him, but a combination of pain, blood loss and exhaustion means that I can't stand up. As more of my precious blood seeps into the snow, I begin to drift in and out of consciousness. I don't even hear Sheen's cannon, but suddenly I see the hovercraft above me, and I know that it's all over.

I've won.

And now I can go home.

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**A/N: Please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	14. By My Side

**A/N: Thanks to richards25 and Violagirl23 for reviewing the last chapter, I appreciate your support!**

**P.S: Before I started writing these oneshots, I created all 75 of my victors, and decided what Games they won. So although it is merely a coincidence that District 1 claims its first trained victor in the Games after I recieved a review questioning District 1's lack of victors, I think one of my reviewers might be a bit psychic :O**

**"Step out the shadows, send the children to their saints**

**You create these zombies just to keep them from their saints."**

**- Tom Meighan, 2006.**

* * *

**The 14th Annual Hunger Games**

**Satin Hughes (18), District 1 Female**

**Kasabian- By My Side (2006)**

* * *

The tube is dark and somewhat claustrophobic, so I'm glad when I burst out into the open air of the arena. My mentor, Topaz, told me that the first thing I should do is find a source of water. In the arena, water is my new best friend. So my relief is obvious when I look round from my pedestal to see water in abundance. The cornucopia seems to be on a small, sandy island, surrounded by water. In the water, I can see shifty figures below the waves, no doubt mutts of some shape or form. The water doesn't look like a promising destination.

Looking at my opposition, something doesn't feel right. I can only see four other tributes, and the cornucopia seems way too close to me. Looking just beyond the cornucopia, I can see a thin strip of sand leading to a larger, wooded island. If I look the other way past the cornucopia, I can see another small island similar to my own, with a large golden structure (another cornucopia?) situated on it.

Whatever it is, it's confusing me. Looking around the few pedestals I can see, I can see none of my allies. The girls from Seven and Nine, the boys from Three and Eleven. Judging by the positions of the pedestals, there must be six around the cornucopia. Could there possibly be four cornucopias? Would that explain this arrangement?

Looking in opposite directions, I can see two small, sandy islands holding golden structures, and each island has a thin strip of sand leading to the larger island, as does our own island. I can't make out any tributes, but the other islands must be half a mile away. As for the fourth cornucopia, it must be on the far side of the large island, and thus out of my sight.

I'm futher pondering this thought when the gong sounds and the 14th Games begin.

The distance to the cornucopia is remarkably short, and I cover it with ease. I arrive at the entrance of the horn at the same time as the boy from Eleven, and I punch him in the chest and push him backwards, where he is impaled on a blade in the form of a machete held by the girl from District 7. The boy screams and falls, and my newest, more deadly adversary advances on me, forcing me inside the horn, where I have no chance of escape. I dodge the girl's first lunge and I back into a supply crate. I reach for a loose knife atop another box and hold it up to my opponent as she tries to swing at me again. Fortunately, I watch someone's boot make contact with the back of the girl's knees. The girl falls forward and loses her grip on the machete, which I take from her. She lands flat on her face, and I bring the blade down on her neck before she has the chance to get back to her feet again.

Looking up to see my saviour, I'm not surprised that I can see my district partner Platinum standing in front of me, helping himself to a mace. He beckons for me to follow him and he leads me out of the cornucopia, his weapon raised.

Outside, I can already see the girl from District 9 fleeing along the sand strip. We won't be able to catch her now.

Then the boy from District 3 appears from behind the cornucopia, unarmed. He charges at Platinum, and it is all too easy for my district partner to bring down his mace onto the skull of the younger boy. Disoriented, the boy from Three is then pushed into the water, where the dark shapes find him quickly. He screams until he is pulled under.

Looking at the other islands, I can see a figure running along a sand strip to the wooded island from the small island on my left. I guess that I was right with my 'four cornucopias' theory.

Returning to the cornucopia, me and Platinum rummage through the supplies, picking the two largest backpacks and filling them with choice supplies. We have enough food and water to last us a week, and we also have two comfortable sleeping bags, a lighter, iodine solution used to purify water, two metres of rope, a waterproof coat, a pair of night-vision glasses, an electric torch and some weapons. Platinum has a mace and the combat knife that I picked up earlier, whilst I carry the machete that we took from the girl from Seven.

The summer sun starts to take its toll as we slowly walk together across the thin strip of sand to the wooded island. Halfway across, we both jump as the sound of cannon-fire rumbles through the arena. We stop walking to count the dead, and find that eleven of us are dead already, although I won't know who until sunset. Only thirteen of us are left.

When we reach the main island, the woodland is even more dense than we first thought, and there is a sense of foreboding about entering it. But we know that we have to.

"Come on!" says Platinum after we stand at the edge of the woods for a couple of minutes, not daring to go any further. "We need to find the others."

I shrug before replying.

"I guess so," I say quietly. "But the chances of getting ambushed will be so high in the woods. Visibility will be appalling."

"It's not like we have much choice, Satin," replies Platinum. "Come on, let's go. Stay by my side, and you'll be fine."

And with that comment, my ally turns on his heels and walks confidently into the woods.

Sighing, I reluctantly follow my district partner into a world of darkness, doubt and inevitable death.

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**A/N: Please review! Can we get three reviews for this chapter? As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	15. No More Mr Nice Guy

**A/N: Thanks for the continued support, and thanks to richards25, Vykktor and Violagirl23 for the reviews!**

**As I'm sure you all know, there are only ten more Games until the First Quarter Quell, and as very little information on these rather special Games in the original books, I'm going to hold a competition to decide what the arena should be! If anyone is interested, please PM me your arena ideas! Of course, the winning arena will be used in the oneshot of the 25th Games.**

**In order for there to be time to write the oneshot, I'll be accepting PMs until the 22nd Games is uploaded, which will be in roughly a week's time (around March 22nd).**

**Finally, I hope you enjoy this oneshot, set during the 15th Games.**

**"No more Mister Nice Guy**

**No more Mister Clean**

**No more Mister Nice Guy**

**They say he's sick, he's obscene."**

**- Alice Cooper, 1973.**

* * *

**The 15th Annual Hunger Games**

**Cicero Turner (17), District 2 Male**

**Alice Cooper- No More Mr. Nice Guy (1973)**

* * *

All is quiet in the arena. My five allies, who all survived the cornucopia bloodbath along with me and nine others, are off on the hunt for other tributes. I, however, have to guard our makeshift camp.

_Oh, the joys of being a Career._ I had imagined something much better than guard duty before the Games began. I was lucky this year, too. Both tributes from Four didn't volunteer, as they aged sixteen and seventeen. The boy, sixteen-year-old Kieran, is actually rather handy, and even scored an eight in training. The girl is incompetent, but my mentor Amadeus told me to keep her with us for a couple of days, just in case she has any hidden talents. Judging by her performance in the bloodbath earlier today, I'd be tempted to say that any talents are non-existent. As for the other Careers, the boy from District 1 is too headstrong, the girl from One is too stupid, and although my district partner is smart, she's barely competent with her favoured weapon, the bow and arrow. Even from the reaping, everything looked to be going my way.

Then in training, we came across the boy from District 6. He's obviously eighteen, and was over six and a half feet tall. He's clearly the strongest of all of us, and I'm sure he has some sort of talent with weapons. In training, he became the first tribute from a non-Career district to score an eleven, and the third tribute to score an eleven in the fifteen-year history of the Games. In his interview with Aurelius Newton, he appeared sullen and untalkative, so none of the Careers could gather much information on him. He's certainly the dark horse in these Games.  
And he survived the bloodbath.

He's got everything going for him. The highest scorer, an impressive opening display in the bloodbath, a mysterious edge about him after his interview. Everyone wants to know more about him. And Capitol citizens will be falling over themselves to sponsor him.

And me? I'm just an average Career. Trained, yes. Strong, yes. Clever, yes. In with a chance of winning the Games, yes. But just an average Career. My training score of nine is average, or even worse, predictable, for a District 2 male. My interview angle- the cocky, confident brute killer- has been played by Careers for years. Even though the boy from One chose the same angle as me and I played it better than him (did he ever think he'd stand as much of a chance as me, the arrogant fool?), it was nothing original. Nothing I have done has made me stand out. And so I won't gather many sponsors. Maybe a few, but not enough. Especially late in the Games, when sponsors become evermore crucial, I will have little on my side.

And for me, sponsors are everything. Sponsors mean popularity. I'm not in this arena because I need food or wealth; my family in Two have plenty of that. I'm here because I want to become a hero; I want to win to claim respect and popularity at home.

In District 2, I'm nothing but a reject. Being from a higher background than the common schoolkid, I never fitted in during my school days, and I hated them. Nobody wanted to be seen with me. I was uncool. The loner in the corner. The loser. The kid the others bullied.

So I wanted to make a name for myself. To be seen as something more than nothing. Just some recognition. I don't even care who from. That's why I spent six years training. That's why I became so dedicated. And that's why I'm annoyed that District 6 has stolen the limelight from me.

I think back to the most famous victors of the past fourteen years. The girl from Four who won a few years ago, nicknamed 'Mags'. She was different; she won the Games without killing anyone. Or my mentor, Amadeus Cato. He was cold, calculating, efficient and incredibly ruthless. He's regarded as the greatest amongst victors by those in the know in the Capitol. But he is only so famous due to the fact that in his Games, he was different.

But if I want to be different, I can't be cold and ruthless like Amadeus, or peaceful like Mags. I need to do something shocking; something to make the audience sit up and notice me.

If I'm going to get a reputation, I need to do something absolutely horrendous.

I could become the most sadistic and twisted tribute the Games have seen.

I only have one weapon with me; a small, curved combat knife. Serrated down one side, razor-sharp on the other.

_Oh, the fun I could have with this._

I imagine the audience watching on horrified as I slowly end the life of some powerless weakling from the outlying districts. Yes, that would get me attention.

Obviously, when it comes to later in the Games, kills won't come so easily, and won't be so quick. I'll need to end any opposition quickly. But now, whilst weak tributes are still alive, is my chance to show off a sadistic side. My chance to steal back the attention from that man-mountain from District 6.

But whilst I could be hunting tributes, I'm stuck on guard duty. The other Careers won't be back for hours, and by then, the pool of remaining tributes might have shrunk even smaller.

After all, nobody will be near the cornucopia at this time. It is well-known amongst tributes that the Careers tend to set up camp near the cornucopia, just like we have done this year. Surely nobody is stupid enough to wander near the cornucopia on the first night?

Surely nobody will know if I disappear for an hour into the woods? I could get a lot done in that time. And what's life without a little risk, anyway?

I stand to leave camp unguarded, my small knife in my left hand. I pack a torch and some food and leave quietly to prowl the arena, in search of my first victim.

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**A/N: Please review, and remember to send me your arena ideas! :)**


	16. There's No Other Way

**A/N: Here's another character from the original THG trilogy. Not too much is said about him, and even though I'm including the nickname, in my version of events he doesn't pick it up until after the time of his Games.**

**Plus, I know that it's difficult to describe when the tributes won't have ever seen this type of landscape before, by this arena is set in a savannah, like those in central Africa.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"There's no other way**

**All that you can do is watch them play."**

**- Damon Albarn, 1991.**

* * *

**The 16th Annual Hunger Games**

**Jacob 'Woof' Harley (16), District 8 Male**

**Blur- There's No Other Way (1991)**

* * *

It's only just past dawn, and I'd be amazed if more than two of us are awake in the arena at the moment. Whilst most of the tributes are asleep, it's much, much easier to move through the arena without being noticed. Set in hot grassland, where trees are scarce and water is scarcer, everyone is on the move for sustenance constantly throughout the day. Due to the openness of the arena, it's incredibly easy to be spotted during the day. We've only been in the arena a week, and already there are only six of us left.

Of course, there's the usual Careers, who are now only represented in these Games by the boy from District 1 and the girl from District 4. Judging by the fact that last night the faces of three Careers were in the sky, I'd be tempted to say that their alliance has completely broken down, and that the two remaining Careers are working independently. However, I can't be sure; I haven't seen any of the Careers since the fourth day, when I narrowly evaded the males from Districts 1 and 4, who were on a patrol, searching for tributes.

If I've kept track of the faces in the sky correctly, the other remaining tributes are the girl from District 3 and the boys from Ten and Twelve. I doubt any of them are allying, but yet again, I can't be sure. Due to my operating at dawn and dusk only, I've barely seen anyone since the Games began. The last tribute I saw was my district partner Isabel, but she died two days ago. I think the mutts- a pack of super-strong, super-quick lions- must have gotten her. I only escaped by climbing a dead tree. They circled me for what felt like half an hour until another tribute, the boy from Five, came too close. Then they were off. I watched the feral creatures tear him apart.

Shuddering as the memories resurface, I force myself to focus on my current situation. I know where a couple of moderately-sized lakes are dotted within the area, which I use to maintain my water levels. As for food, it's either been what little game we can catch (I haven't caught any) or fruit dangling high in the air in the few trees we can find. But over the last couple of days, my fruit stores have grown to be plentiful, due to a bit of luck and a lot of good judgment, caused by timing my twilight raids for food to perfection.

I do have a small base within the arena. Where the endless plains rise slightly to form a small hill, I have a stash of supplies atop the hill. I keep half my supplies and my only weapon (a knife I found in a backpack at the cornucopia) within my backpack at all times. I've also got a torch and a small bottle of iodine solution that I was sent by sponsors two days ago, after I survived the mutt pack. The remainder of my supplies are at my base, so that if by some unknown reason I lose my backpack, I still have some supplies to return to, and not all will be lost.

And so now, as the sun creeps over the horizon, I am moving slowly and quietly through the chest-height grasses of the plains. But I must try to keep my speed up. Within an hour, the arena will be full of life. I need to be back at my base guarding my supplies by that time.

The possibility of running into other tributes makes me stop to take my knife out of my backpack and hold it readily in my right hand. I don't know what use it will be if I actually meet someone, as I've never tried to kill before, but it gives me confidence just by holding it.

I reach the nearest lake, which is roughly a mile and a half from my small hill, quicker than I thought I would. I waste no time in filling my two small metal water bottles and applying four drops of iodine solution to each one. But I don't wait around for the water to purify, I just stuff the bottles into my backpack and set off for my base again, knowing that the water will be treated by the time I return to the hill.

I increase my pace on the return journey, knowing that tributes will be slowly starting to rise from their dreams as the sun rises higher.

I'm only five minutes away from my hill when I reach a clearing in the grass, and immediately reel backwards.  
It's another tribute. I think it's the boy from District 12. I don't recognise the face, but none of the other tributes that are left are this young, I'm sure of it. This boy must be fourteen at the very oldest.

And here he lies curled up on the grass, sleeping peacefully. I need to get back to my hill, but I don't want to risk waking this tribute. In reality, I know that my best option is to kill the boy in his sleep, but I can't bring myself to do it. I know that it would be an easy, and quiet, way to eliminate another of my opponents. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I realise that I need finish this boy while I can.

I crouch down next to the boy silently, holding my knife in front of me. How would I go about killing someone? I'd probably try to make a clean slit through his throat with my knife. Cut off his air supply. He'd be dead in minutes.

I move the knife about in my hands, considering my actions. If I kill this boy, and I could easily, then I have ended all the hopes, aspirations and memories of this defenceless child. Somewhere in District 12, a family will mourn him. I will be loathed by them, judged by people that I have never met.

And I will be a murderer.

No, I can't do it. Or, to be more accurate, the Jacob Harley that was reaped two weeks ago couldn't do it. But my time in the arena has led be to know that I won't be able to escape this place without killing. In the arena, you kill or get killed. There is no other way of surviving.

Blocking out my senses, I force myself to commit the deed. I stand over the body, shaking in shock at what I have just done. I'm already regretting it. But now is not the time for regrets. Now is the time to return to the hill. I wipe the blood off of my knife onto the ground, and place-

_Bang._

The cannon-fire echoes around the arena, and I see a flock of birds take flight raucously nearby. I had forgotten there would be a cannon after I had killed the boy. Now the whole arena will be awake, and I am in the middle of nowhere. I need to return to the rest of my supplies before someone else stumbles upon them.

I turn and run from the scene, eager to put as much distance between the body and myself as possible.

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**A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! :)**


	17. Ten Years Gone

**A/N: For the few of you who have read my stories 'Second Time Unlucky' and 'Mentor', the victor in this oneshot, Natalie, made a brief appearance in Chapter 2 of 'Mentor'. I doubt you'd remember her, but I thought I'd mention it anyway.**

**Sorry if this chapter is a little bit short, I hope you enjoy it anyway :)**

**"Then as it was, then again it shall be**

**Though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea."**

**- Robert Plant, 1975.**

* * *

**The 17th Annual Hunger Games**

**Natalie Blackman (18), District 4 Female**

**Led Zeppelin- Ten Years Gone (1975)**

* * *

The arena is silent at night. Only faint sound of the insects stands out above the breathing of my allies. Above me lie the stars, seemingly unmoving and timeless.

_If only my life was so easy._

Maybe, when I return home as a victor in a few weeks, it will be. But for now, I have much more pressing matters.  
This is the arena, where the Capitol send there tributes to fight to the death for wealth and glory. Well, that's what the winners get. For the twenty-three losers, there is only an undignified death in a foreign field, hundreds of miles from home.

But this year, no death will befall me. I trained for the arena. Not just for personal gain, like most of the wannabe-victors in District 4's Training Centre, but because I don't want another family to be in mourning because of the Games. If I can take the place of another girl, who had no chance of winning, then I can spare another family in District 4 of mourning a lost child. I've been through it once, and it's not something that I ever want to relive.

It's been ten years since he died. Evan. My eldest cousin. With there being a ten-year age gap, you wouldn't expect us to be close. But we were. After Father left me and Mother when I was two, I spent much of my young life with him, whilst my Mother earned a living at the docks. Well, the times when he wasn't at the Training Centre.

Like many impressionable young teenagers, he was taken in by Fraser Reynolds' famous 'Career as a celebrity' speech shortly before the 4th Games. Three years later, in Evan Blackman was on his way to the Capitol.

I remember watching the Games with Mother at my aunt's house, where Evan had grown up. He was high-scoring. A competent tribute. He got into all the right alliances. He survived everything the Gamemakers could throw at him. And he was betrayed.

Quite literally stabbed in the back by his sole remaining ally, the girl from District 2. Luckily, the horrid girl was finished by the girl from Twelve, Michelle, less than a day later. The final fight itself was far from spectacular; the only shock was that the tribute who was presumed to be weaker won comfortably.

But I didn't care. Evan had been taken from me. And without his guidance (he had been a father figure to me whilst Mother worked long hours), I grew up quicker than I ever imagined.

But time is a great healer. By the age of twelve, I was prepared to train myself to become a tribute, and I enrolled at the Training Centre shortly after the 11th Games. But all the time, I was driven by Evan; his sacrifice shall not be in vain. A Blackman shall survive the arena. And it shall be me.

Also, I remember the name of the girl that I volunteered for. Alice Jackson. She was short, slender, and fourteen. Not victor material. And thanks to my actions, the Jackson family won't have to grieve a loved one.

And I'm determined to prevent a second Blackman funeral. I don't think my Mother could take much more loss in her life. Her parents. Her husband. Her nephew. Add her daughter to the list, and it might just push her over the edge. I really, really don't want to think about what will happen then.

The early morning sun starts to flood into the arena, which is a steep-sided, rocky river valley, and I hear my allies, the other Careers, start to stir from their sleep. I force myself to stand and make the short trip to the thin stream that runs along the bottom of the valley to collect some water for cooking whilst my allies wake.

The numbers are half what they originally were. Only eleven people stand between me and home. Only eleven people stand between me and the victory that my family rightfully deserve.

Ten years may have passed, but a Blackman never gives up the fight.

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**A/N: Please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	18. Pistols At Dawn

**A/N: Special thanks to richards25, Chop n thunder and Mrs KiliMellark for reviewing the three chapters posted yesterday.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter too :)**

**"This blade man can wait, don't leave them now**

**This aggravation is heavy duty."**

**- Tom Meighan, 2011.**

* * *

**The 18th Annual Hunger Games**

**Cassius Patrick (18), District 2 Male**

**Kasabian- Pistols At Dawn (2011)**

* * *

We stand twenty yards apart, the riding sun perpendicular to us. Amidst the desert and the long shadows, the final two tributes of the 18th Annual Hunger Games oppose each other.

Facing me is Harrison; the quick, intelligent boy from District 3. Despite his mind being his main weapon, the boy's in good physical state. I'd guess him to be a couple of inches shy of six feet, and he stands dressed in just a pair of ragged shorts. Although his skin looks sore, burnt and flaky in places after days in the sun, this abuse doesn't continue to the muscles beneath. Despite his slender build, his muscles look defined and sturdy, and he is clearly more powerful than what my fist impressions had assumed. He's a fighter. He has to be. How else would he have managed to stay alive so far. This year has been one of the most competitive Games to date. Five tributes scored at least nine in training; a new record. Now two of the three who scored tens face off against each other to decide who goes home.

I stand facing Harrison, knowing that there is a great possibility that he will match me, if not better me, in hand-to-hand combat. In this sort of fight, what weapons a tribute possesses would usually decide the outcome. But in this confrontation, we have reached stalemate.

I know that we both have knives, as I can see his in the belt tied to his shorts, but neither of us wield our blades. What will decide this fight is the piece of metal in my right hand.

What I hold is a revolver. For the first time, the Gamemakers included firearms within the supplies at the cornucopia. However, there was a twist. The revolver and the six bullets it needed were kept separately within the supplies. So far apart that the Careers ended up with a revolver and no ammunition to use with it.

Now Harrison stands facing me, dangling the bullets in his left hand, taunting me. Three of the bullets are spent; has Harrison managed to create his own firing mechanism? He's certainly smart enough to do it. If he has, I need to make sure that he hasn't got the time to fire a bullet in my direction.

"What're you going to do with those, District Three?" I call, trying to appear intimidating in return. "And what happened to the rest of the bullets?"

"I shot them, stupid," he retorts patronisingly, a smirk upon his face. "Who needs a gun when you have brains?"

So he has found a way of creating a firing mechanism.

"How did you manage that?" I call back, eager to understand his secrets.

"Like I'd tell you!" he laughs at me. "Then again, I guess I could give a practical demonstration," he taunts.

He's really starting to annoy me. It's all I can take not to take the knife from my belt, but I know that I must not. If I show any signs of aggression, no doubt he'll fight. And I've no idea what he'll be able to do with those bullets.

"I'll pass on a demonstration," I reply calmly. "Killed anyone with the three you fired?" I ask.

"Only one," he replies, sounding a little disappointed in himself. "Let's just say that I haven't got a very good aim."

I laugh at that.

"I doubt I'd be much better, if I'm honest. I stick to my blades. Five kills in a week says that it was a good decision to keep a knife, too."

"It's not like mine's been useless, either. "I got District Four with this," he say, taking his knife from his belt. I follow his example and wield my own blade.

At least now I know what happened to my ex-allies. The Career Alliance lasted for a remarkably short period of time this year; just three days. On the fourth morning, an ongoing verbal battle since the first day finally got physical. I stood the side of the District One tributes, whilst District 4 confronted us. We killed the boy, but the girl escaped. I can only assume that she met her end at Harrison's hands.

After the split, we lost the girl from One in a sandstorm that the Gamemakers used on the sixth day to draw us together. We never regrouped with her, and her face was in the sky on the night of day seven.

Five more days, and the remaining numbers of nine were whittled down to three as I turned on my last remaining ally and cut through the few remaining tributes from the outlying districts.

And then there were three.

Myself, Harrison, and my district partner.

Laura had shunned the alliance from the moment we arrived in the Capitol. Being a high-scoring tribute, I'm amazed that she survived the first week, as most of our time was consumed searching for Laura and the other high-scoring non-Careers, Harrison and the boy from District 6, whose name I cannot remember. I found the boy from Six on the tenth night, and made an example of him.

It's something of an informal competition, but since Cicero, my mentor, won the 15th Games three years go with such a brutal and merciless display of sadism, all the male tributes of District 2 have been trying to better him. Make an example of somebody, _anybody, _to keep up the reputation that District 2 males are the toughest, most brutal and most ruthless tributes that there are. And I made sure I kept up our reputation when I found District 6 on that cold, starry night.

It was Laura who found me, in the end. Seventeen days in the desert had taken their toll on both of us, and those minutes fighting my district partner were some of the toughest of my life.

We've always been told at the Training Centre that compassion must be shown towards your district partner. Well, as much compassion as the arena can allow. Favour them over others. Side with them if possible. And even though Laura had turned her back on me, I found it torturous to go through with killing her. Throughout the long, weary and bloody fight, I was constanly reminded by the indoctrinated ideals inside my headthat I should not have been fighting her. But it was either fight or die, and after all, my primary objective is to get home, using any means possible. Even if that means killing your district partner.

I can still feel the wounds that she gave me. A gash in my right calf, a long cut down my back. The physical pain only serves to remind me of my true wounds, those inside my head.

I'm a murderer.

I'm a traitor.

I'm despicable.

I tortured a man for fun.

But I am Cassius Patrick, and I am a Career.

This what I have lived for. To train for the Hunger Games, and to fight in them.

But now is not the time for regrets,I can sort myself out later. Now is the time to clear the final hurdle and escape the arena forever.

I return my attention back to Harrison, who's been rambling on about the girl from District 4 that he killed. I'm not sorry that I wasn't listening; I don't care at all for the dead girl.

Harrison cuts off his speech, shocked, as I charge at him with just my knife. By catching him off guard, he drops the bullets and holds out his knife towards me semi-confidently.

We collide and collapse to the earth as one, a tumbling mass of muscle, burnt skin, blood and metal. He hits the ground first, and I roll off of him upon impact. I'm the first to stand, but as I do, Harrison klunges out at me, and his knife slashes through my right leg just below the knee. I cry out in pain and collapse, holding out my knife in front of me as I fall. As I land, my blade sinks through Harrison's shoulder, pinning him to the ground. He screams in pain and I roll away from him, now armed with only my empty revolver.

And then I remember the bullets.

As Harrison struggles to remove the knife from his shoulder, I scramble the ten yards to where the bullets lie. As I attempt to fit them into my weapon, I noticew how badly my hands are shaking. I'm not scared; there is no time for fear in this sort of situation. But the pressure is getting to me. I have five, maybe ten, seconds to load the gun, or Harrison will be upon me and it will all be over.

I finally manage to cram the bullets in, and I turn onto may back to see Harrison, a knife in each hand, ready to dive onto me. I don't even have time to think before he jumps, weapons raised.

I was so stunned to see him so close.

In the end, it was a reflex reaction as my body tensed in shock that caused me to pull the trigger.

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this one, I've enjoyed writing it much more than most of the others!**

**Please review, I'm still welcoming constructive criticism :)**


	19. 2,000 Light Years Away

**A/N: Thanks to richards25 and charliesunshine for reviewing the last chapter :)**

**"I hold my breath and close my eyes and think about her**

**'Cause she's two thousand light years away."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1992.**

* * *

**The 19th Annual Hunger Games**

**Lucas Raven (18), District 2 Male**

**Green Day- 2,000 Light Years Away (1992)**

* * *

I sit atop the rocky outcrop, looking down over the arena. Ice and snow, as far as the eye can see. The only change in colour comes with the dark rocky outcrops that dominate the peaks.

The arena is a mountain range. Tall, difficult peaks of ice and rock that tower into the sky. Around the low ground that situated the cornucopia, there were seven mountains. Natural skyscrapers that literally touch the sky. On that first morning, the cloud layer was so low that the true extent of the mountains was not to be revealed for another two days, and the mist disappeared to give us a good view of the desolate landscape we have been thrown into.

Warmth is not an issue, as the lower slopes of the mountains are sparsely populted with pines. It may be a sparse covering, but there is still plenty of wood to last twenty-four tributes a month or two. And anyway, twelve of us died on the first day, so what wood there is left would last us even longer. And even if the wood does run out, we werre all given fur-lined leather coats as part of our clothing before the Games, so despite being in freezing conditions constantly, the cold is not a concern.

Neither is food a concern. There are lots of small animals that keep to the woods near the bottom of the mountains, most of which are seemingly too stupid to see humans as harmful. They are easy pickings.

Water will never be an issue when ninety percent of the arena is covered by snow. Even without a fire, body warmth would be enough to melt enough ice to keep a tribute hydrated.

I'm not sure how many days have passed, they all seem to blend into one in such a repetitive environment. I'm not sure where the mountain that I am currently at the summit of is in relation to the corncucopia, but it definintely wasn't one of the seven that surrounded the clearing. The cornucopia is nowhere in sight. I know that it takes around three days to ascend and descend a mountain, and this is my third summit that I have reached, so it must have been at least eight days since I first started climbing. I know that I spent a week with the other three Careers roaming the valleys in between the mountains until the Gamemakers sent an avalanche upon us. I was the only Career to survive it.

Since then, I have walked alone through the arena. Back then, there were seven of us alive. I haven't run into anyone (though I did once spot a tribute on a mountain opposite the one I was ascending at the time) but the number have decreased to just four of us left alive.

And I have no idea where to begin searching for the others.

After nearly three weeks, they could be anywhere.

So I just wait for something to happen. Every day, I travel aimlessly, waiting until I either randomly stumble across someone else, or the Gamemakers force us together. All I know is that the other three remaining tributes aren't from the Career districts. I can't remember exactly, but Ibbelieve one of them is from District 10. I can't even remember it it would be the boy or the girl from Ten, or maybe no-one from District 10 is alive. I genuinely don'tknow.

_Oh, I hate the arena._

I never realsied until I got in here that my family were right to warn me when I signed up to the Training Centre. Their harsh regimes and endless training do give District 2 strong tributes for the Games, but it should never have been me. Not when so many others would have willingly taken my place.

And I killed them all in the trials.

That was nothing to the real thing. The District 2 trials and the real Games are barely comparable. I was completely unprepared, even after everything Augustus, Amadeus, Rose, Cicero and Cassius have done for me in the last five years. Five victors can't even defeat this arena.

Well, maybe I can win. There are only four of us left, and I'm sure that I'm the only trained tribute left alive after the avalanche.

But the arena is breaking me, the longer I stay in here. I can survive on what there is in the arena, but over long periods of time, my physical form will waver.

But the major challenges that the arena has given me are the mental ones. I've not seen another person in over a week, and I'm stuck in an entirely alien environment, hundreds of miles from home. There is nothing like this in District 2; there probably isn't anyhting remotely similar to this in any of the districts of Panem.

And I miss home.

Not District 2 as a place; I've barely seen any of it in the years since I devoted myself to becoming a Career. But I miss the people.

By friends, my trainers, my family.

The friends that I had grown close to in the Training Centre, only to be turned against them in the trials. My best friend, Hayden, has been dead for over seven weeks now.

And he died by my hand.

My trainers were the ones who gave me the determination to succeed through all the troubles of life in District 2 and devote myself to becoming a Career. Over five years, they became a second family to me. I spent as much time with them as I did with my actual family. But now I can only associate doubts with them after what they forced me to do during the reaping trials.

I miss the sense of security that they used to give me.

And I miss my family. The family that I turned my back on during my teenage years after signing up to the Training Centre. My mother, my father, my two younger sisters. When they were there, I ignored them. Now that they are a thousand miles away, I feel as though I never wanted to leave them. If I close my eyes, I can picture them all clearly, smiling at me. But I feel as though the solitary confinement of the arena will soon render me insane, and all memory of them will be lost.

And that must not happen at all costs.

Whatever it takes, I must return home to my family. And sitting here atop a mountain isn't getting me any closer to District 2.

With a new sense of urgency, I return to my feet, grab my backpack, and set off down the mountain.

I've got some tributes to hunt.

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**A/N: Please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	20. High

**A/N: Thanks to richards25 and Violagirl23 for reviewing the last chapter, and everyone else for their continued support for the story! We're twenty Games in and still going strong!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the previous ones :)**

**"Beautiful dawn - lights up the shore for me**

**There is nothing else in the world**

**I'd rather wake up and see**

**With you."**

**- James Blunt, 2004.**

* * *

**The 20th Annual Hunger Games**

**Michelle Lopez (17), District 9 Female**

**James Blunt- High (2004)**

* * *

It's such a beautiful dawn. Across the seemingly endless lake, the sun faintly shimmers down onto the water. I stand at the edge of the water, where the sand would be if this location was coastal. Instead, there is only smooth silt underfoot.

It's not yet late enough in the day for the searing heat of the arena to take effect. Fifteen or twenty degrees celsius; no more, no less. The slight breeze that comes from across the water is warming, and at this moment, I feel as though nothing could be more perfect.

"Come on, we need to be moving."

I sigh as my bubble of perfection is easily broken by the sound of Esteban's voice. I don't move; I'd rather not leave this sight behind me. Few opportunities come to indulge in beauty within Panem, and especially not in the arena. I wanted to savour the moment; I may never see sunrise again. But even if I tried to, I would be unable to enjoy the view now. Not now that I know that _Mr. Impatient_ behind me wants to get a move on.

I try to look out at the banks of the lake around us, to see if we can have any indication as to where the other three remaining tributes may be. We know that the boy from One and the girl from Six are still alive, but we have no idea who the third remaining opponent is. Sadly, I see nothing but a muddy beach and banks of trees on all sides.

Esteban reaches me and rests his head on my shoulder before whispering to me in his mocking tone that I have grown so accustomed to over the years.

"You know, the longer we stay out here, the longer it willl be until we get home," he taunts.

_Well done, smart-arse_, I think, feeling for a moment disappointed by the luck of the reaping balls when it came to giving me a district partner.

Sometimes I really could punch him.

"You really want to leave this behind?" I ask him, gesturing out to the open water with my right hand.

I know that Esteban hadn't fully noticed this view as when I mention it, he lifts his head from my shoulde and walks past me down towards the lake, staring out in wonder. I give him a minute to gaze in awe at the view before seeking revenge.

"You know, the longer we stay out here, the longer it will be until we get home," I taunt my brother, mimicking his mocking tone.

"But the view..."

"Hypocrite."

If looks could kill, I'd be a goner. He's always the first to contradict himself in an argument, as though he's arguing for the sake of arguing. It's so easy to torment him by picking out all the flaws in his arguments back at home, where regular debates strike up across the dining room table. I'm a much quicker thinker than him, and I definintely the smartest of the family. He never takes it well when I prove his points invalid, and often sulks for hours after a crushing verbal defeat. Father often becomes stern on me as a result of tormenting young Esteban, but I can take a lecture if it means an hour of fun watching my fifteen-year-old brother slowly grow to be more and more frustrated.

And so, having yet again proven Esteban to be contradicting himself, I find myself on the end of a death-stare.

"Love you really, Esteban," I say sarcastically, adding fuel to the fire.

I don't get an answer, but I wasn't expecting one. Esteban isn't the type to scream profanities and throw large pieces of furniture around a room when he's angry (I do far too much of that myself), but often draws back into his own world, uncommunicative and sullen. And so after a pause of ten seconds, all my brother gives me is a small _humph _and he turns back to the view.

Watching him from further up the bank I can't deny that my brother looks rather striking in the early morning light. There's something picturesque about the way the light falls past him, as he is half-silhouetted against the gorgeous backdrop of the rising sun over the arena. It's odd to see such a beautiful scene in a place known for dark connotations of death, sacrifice and injustice. His dirty blonde hair glows orange in the light, and the contours of his face stand out due to the long shadows that drop across the right side of his face, so that only his jet-black eyes can be seen to glint due to suppressed fury from beneath the veil of darkness. He's not overly tall, but lanky for his age.

Back at home, in the hallway of our moderately-sized home, my father keeps memoirs of his favourite hobby; the expensive pastime of photography. Most Saturday afternoons for as long as I can remember, Father has disappeared off about the district, looking for ways to utilise his skills with the crude camera that he saved for years to buy. Then he spends all evening poring over the films, looking to see if any other shots he has taken are worth the exorbitant amount that it costs to pay for our film to be developed.

And if any good photographs do arise, then they join the others along our hallway.

Taking pride of place in the hallway is a photograph taken last summer out in the wheatfields, on a blisteringly hot day in early August. I think it might have been the day after the Games had ended; the first full day where we wouldn't have been tied to the television. By all accounts, the day was too hot for any outing to be much fun, but for the freedom it gave us. The freedom that, luckily, the reaping had let us keep, for another year, at least.

I remember Father took the chance to take his beloved camera, which falls into disuse during the month of the Games; the hobby requires not only plenty of money, but an abundance of time, too.

And so on this day he took a photograph of me and Esteban lying in the wheatfields staring up at the bright blue sky, seemingly without a care in the world. The one thing I remember was that, as with every year around the time of the Games, my petty differences with my brother are put aside, in a time of solemnity for the whole district. Luckily, nobody from either my school district or Esteban's was chosen last year, something we were grateful for; it made the Games slightly less torturous than they could have been.

This year, we haven't been so lucky.

For the first time, a brother and sister have entered the arena together. Our sibling alliance has no doubt lasted longer than many would have expected, especially given our record in the past. But we have worked well together. Through a combination of good strategic planning, strong fighting skills and yes, a lttle luck, we have both survived to the final five.

What happens for us now, I don't know. All I know is that we need to stay together if there is to be any chance of either of us leaving this arena alive.

Esteban has turned away from the lake, and his words startle me back to reality.

"I guess we shouldn't stay angry at each other for long," he says. "Sorry."

I nod to accept his apology for his losing his temper, something that I never would have done a month ago. But the arena changes people, and desperate times have called for our unity. Together, there is a chance of us escaping.

Maybe, just _maybe_, we can do it.

I open my arms to Esteban and we embrace for a moment, before walking together to the edge of the woods, where are supplies are situated.

"I guess we'd better get a move on."

We both laugh.

* * *

**A/N: Twenty down, only fifty-five to go! I think I can now safely say that the early stages of the history of the Hunger Games are over, and the First Quarter Quell is nearly upon us!**

**I think, after twenty chapters, I've just passed the 30,000 words mark, which is another milestone reached. Hopefully this story will reach a word count with six figures in fifty-five chapters' time!**

**Also, now that twenty chapters are complete, I'm eager to hear what you, the readers, think about the first twenty Games AS A WHOLE. Was there enough variety, character depth, creative arena designs, etc.**

**So please review! As ever, I'll welcome constructive criticism :)**

**Again, thanks for all the support so far, I hope you continue to enjoy the story :)**


	21. Walking Contradiction

**A/N: Thanks to charliesunshine, richards25 and coaster317 for reviewing the last chapter, I really appreciate it!**

**This one's for coaster317, hope you enjoy it!**

**"Do as I say, not as I do**

**Because the s***'s so deep, you can't run away**

**I beg to differ on the contrary**

**I agree with every word that you say**

**Talk is cheap and lies are expensive**

**My wallet's fat and so is my head**

**Hit and run and then I'll hit you again**

**I'm a smart-ass but I'm playing dumb."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1995.**

* * *

**The 21st Annual Hunger Games**

**Timothy Harper (17), District 7 Male**

**Green Day- Walking Contradiction (1995)**

* * *

"You'd better do as I say here," says Sam arrogantly, gesturing to what he presumes to be a safe path though the marsh. "But don't take me as an example. I know what to do all right, but actually doing it, well, that's an entirely different matter," he jokes, trying to force a laugh from me. I'm not impressed.

"You do realise, Reynolds," I reply, opting for a more serious tone than his. "That if either of us fall in, we'll be so far under that we won't be able to get ourselves out. There's nothing we can use to pull ourselves out."

"So do we go that way, then?" He asks.

"I thought you knew what you were doing, when you led us into this swamp!" I snap in reply, dumbfounded by Sam's arrogance, ignorance and stupidity.

"Yeah, I did."

"So where do we go then?"

"Umm..."

He's such an idiot. Strong, yes, but an idiot. How this arrogant fool got through the trials in District 4, I've no idea. Not for brain, I can tell you that now.

I'm sure he recieved some sort of preferential treatment in the Training Centre. Being the son of a victor would generally lead to priveleges.

Never before has a relative of a victor set foot in the arena. Now Samuel Reynolds, son of the victor of the first Games, Fraser Reynolds, is the male tribute for District 4. He's strong but arrogant, and I'm surprised he's lasted this long. After my high training score guaranteed me a place in the Career Alliance that is usually reserved for tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 only, I then proceeded to become one of the five who escaped the bloodbath. Three more fell in the coming days, two being turned on after obtaining sizeable injuries (it would have been a burden for the rest of us to keep them alive), and then me and Sam got rid of the boy from Two after he was giving us a hard time about our distribution of supplies.

Now that there are only two of us left in the alliance, I'm starting to get wary that Sam could turn on me at any moment. I'm hopeful that he will wait a couple more days at least; there are still five others alive in the arena, and I reckon that Sam will want the numbers reduced before he faces the other alone.

In the meantime, we have decided to explore the marsh that seems to make up much of the eastern side of the arena, where the Careers have never explored before. Now, as we carefully navigate our way through the fog through muddy, slippery ground and near-freezing conditions, this no longer seems like such a good idea.

"Do you think we should head back the way we came?" asks Sam.

_He's such a hypocrite._

_"You'd better do as I say here," _he had told me a few moments ago. _"I know what to do all right."_

_What a liar._

"I thought you knew what you were doing!" I snap at him frustratedly.

"Well..." he blunders, unable to formulate an excuse.

"Reynolds, if I had a dollar for every time you bent the truth, I'd be a millionaire," I say mockingly, leaving my ally flustered.

"Like I bend the truth!" scoffs my ally, but he's just digging himself into a deeper hole.

"I could easily reduce myself to your level," I say in a more serious tone. "It's not hard to play dumb."

That annoyed him.

For almost a minute, we stand five yards apart in the marsh, staring each other down. For the first few seconds, I'm expecting the punch; I can see his balled fists by his side, ready to strike. But the attack never comes.

"At least you know what I'm capable of," he says, trying to threaten me.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I laugh in response. "That way, I know what you can do, making you predictable. And I know that you're not hiding anything, either; you've incredibly low standards for yourself from these first few days, that I know you aren't saving anything. If you were saving anything, you would have revealed it by now. Unless you're incredibly stupid, which is something that I have no doubt that you are."

Sam is silent again.

"How do you know I'm not hding something?" I ask him.

"I don't," he says meekly. I think something might actually be sinking in to his brain. For once.

"You're a hopeless Career, Reynolds," I say honestly. "You're lucky to have lasted this long."

"You're wrong."

"Do you have any evidence to prove that?" I look around myself in an overly exaggerated manner. "No, I think not," I say, showing Sam a look of mock dismay. "I have no belief in you surviving this arena without me."

"You're wrong," is all Sam can say again.

"Go on, then," I say confidently. "Prove me wrong."

"Fine, I will!" retorts Sam, who slings his backpack over his shoulder and stalks off into the marsh.

I stand still, my arms crossed, watching as Sam Reynolds attempts to leave the mash without my assistance. He barely gets fifty yards before I watch his footing give way and he topples over into the cold waters. I can faintly hear muffled cries for help, but I pretend not to hear him and turn from the scene, making my own careful escape from the marsh.

_So, that confrontation went well, _I think to myself sarcastically. Then again, although I lost my final ally, I'm one tribute closer to home.

And that can only be a good thing.

* * *

**A/N: If you've enjoyed this, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed.**

**Also, we've reached another (albeit small) milestone; ten followers! So thanks to Vykktor, Clover80, Cashmere67, Violagirl23, richards25, Firnight, dreamzspark, , Toadetterocks15 and Padfootisawesome for following! I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!**

**GM97 :)**


	22. Anarchy In The UK

**A/N: Thanks to Violagirl23, Purplo9, charliesunshine and dreamzspark for reviwing the last chapter! The support is appreciated.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**"How many ways to get what you want?**

**I use the best**

**I use the rest."**

**- John Lydon, 1977.**

* * *

**The 22nd Annual Hunger Games**

**Sheen O'Halloran (18), District 1 Male**

**The Sex Pistols- Anarchy In The UK (1977)**

* * *

I did not expect this.

All around me is a scene of destruction. I had expected a natural arena, but as I stand on my pedestal awaiting the start of the Games, all I can see looks like an oversized demolition site. Wrecked shells of buildings jut out above the rubble of the destroyed city that surrounds us.

I can't really see how we will be able to find sustenance is this hostile environment. Cornucopia supplies will be more important than ever.

I'd never even considered not sprinting to the cornucopia; the Careers always do. Looking round the other tributes to find my allies, I immediately spot the tributes from District 4 due to the ridiculous height of the male tribute. He must be nearly seven feet tall. He scored the highest of all of us in training, scoring a ten for himself. He's the one to beat in these Games.

Still, I reckon I can take him on.

Looking inwards towards the cornucopia, there are no supplies outside the golden horn. The only things between the pedestals and the cornucopia are pieces of rubble. Amongst them lie a couple of shards of metal that could be used as a makeshift weapons, in the unlikely scenario that the Careers can't salvage any better weapons.

I just have time to spot the short, brown haired girl from District 2 before the gong sounds and the Games begin.

The sprint to the cornucopia takes less time than I expected. I'm one of the first two to arrive along with the boy from District 2 and we rush inside the horn to gather supplies.

There is plenty of food and water, some decent sleeping bags, a large first-aid kit and many other life saving pieces of kit. The Career Alliance will be well-supplied this year.

However, there are no weapons.

_No weapons?_ I think. _The Gamemakers must really hate us._

Then I remember the rubble outside. Tonnes of scrap metal and broken glass. Heavy bricks could be of use, too.

And the Gamemakers have all the Careers trapped weaponless in the cornucopia, with potentially armed tributes waiting outside. I can almost guarantee that not all of the Careers will survive the bloodbath.

I have to get out of here, and fast.

All of us make a break out of the cornucopia at the same time, and I can only watch as the boy from District 2 gets cut down almost immediately by a much younger boy, who carries a foot-long segment of broken metal, deformed to the extent that it is serrated along one side.

I reach down to grab the object nearest to me- a lead pipe- when I notice someone approaching. Assuming it to be the boy with the metal, I take a swing at the figure.

I don't realise that it was my district partner until the pipe has crashed against her skull. I stare in shock as she falls, and only when she hits the floor do I notice the boy from Four. He has an iron bar, conveniently sharpened at one end to give him a crude spear. He's twenty yards away, and poised to throw.

Instinctively I collapse to the floor as the spear flies over me. I scramble back to my feet and turn to run away from the cornucopia.

Two Careers are dead already, and the alliance is in tatters.

There's only one feasible option from here; to go it alone.

And so I run from the cornucopia, never to look back.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**Also, I'm off to Paris for the weekend, so the next chapter won't be posted until Tuesday :) **


	23. The Game

**A/N: We've passed 50 reviews, so thanks to Vykktor, charliesunshine, richards25, coaster317, dreamzspark and Violagirl23 for reviewing!**

**I'm back from France and it's the easter holidays, so I'm aiming for a chapter a day for the next week and a half :)**

**This victor appeared briefly in the early chapters of my story 'Mentor', I hope you enjoy her Games :)**

**"I am the game, you don't wanna play me**

**I am control, no way you can shake me**

**I am heavy debts, no way you can pay me**

**I am the pain, and I know you can't take me."**

**- Ian Fraser Kilmister, 2002.**

* * *

**The 23rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Danielle Morgan (17), District 4 Female**

**Motorhead- The Game (2002)**

* * *

Almost as soon as I entered the arena, I understood what the Hunger Games are all about.

Power.

Without power, I would just be one of twenty-four tributes attempting to survive all that the Gamemakers throw at us. But my display at the cornucopia bloodbath and my training score of ten ensured that I was respected by the other six members of the Career Alliance. Now that I have control over my allies, I can use this power to my advantage.

I was especially pleased when the girls from Districts 2 and 8 (who were allied to me at the time) quite literally walked into a Gamemaker trap on my orders. I had already spotted the trap, which was a thirty-foot drop blocked from sight by a crude covering of foliage (thinking about it, the trap was far too crude for the Gamemakers; it was probably another tribute), and the girls were the only two of my allies who were gullible enough to carry on walking when I told them to. Both of them died upon impact.

Once I had taken control of the other Careers, it was easy enough to get them to do my bidding. Take power, and you are half way to winning.

I know that my three remaining allies (both from District 1 and the girl from Two) are all caught in my web of mind games. I have made sure that all of my allies feel in debt to me. At the bloodbath, I saved the tributes of District 1 (who were unarmed at the time) from the high-scoring boy from District 11, earning their trust and respect along the way. And the boy from Two owes me after I saved from almost certain death in a physical dispute with my district partner. Despite any regrets I had about killing my district partner at the time, I now know that it was worth it. I've gotten one over the boy from District 2. He's in debt to me, just like the rest of his allies. All of them will think twice before trying to kill me.

And if they do try, they know that there will only ever be one outcome. I'm sure that my brutal murder of the boy from Twelve using only a sleeping bag, a fork and a matchstick was enough to convince my allies that the only consequence of an attack on me will be their own slow, painful death.

There's no way out for my fellow Careers. They either try to escape and face my wrath as I hunt them down, or they stay in the Career Alliance until I decide that it is their turn to die.

The Careers are subject to a new rulebook; _my_ rulebook.

I am the game; there's no way they can defeat me.

I have control; control that the others can't escape.

They have their debts; debts that the Careers will never be able to pay back.

And all they will recieve from me is pain; more pain they can possibly hope to withstand.

As for the Gamemakers, well, the 23rd Annual Hunger Games are no longer under their control. I make the rules now. They will just have to become a part of the audience, along with the rest of the Capitol.

I hope that the Gamemakers will enjoy watching the other tributes die as much as I will.

* * *

**A/N: Only one more chapter until the First Quarter Quell! :D**

**If you've enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	24. Viva La Vida

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, Vykktor, coaster317, charliesunshine and Chop n thunder for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I know that I've already failed to update daily this week, I've been writing other fanfiction projects. But I really will try and make updates daily from now on (well, for the next week, anyway!)**

**Here's another District 4 victor from my other story, 'Mentor'. I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"I used to rule the world**

**Seas would rise when I gave the word**

**Now in the morning I sleep alone**

**Sweep the streets I used to own."**

**- Chris Martin, 2008.**

* * *

**The 24th Annual Hunger Games**

**Harriet Sands (17), District 4 Female**

**Coldplay- Viva La Vida (2008)**

* * *

It's amazing how quickly things started to fall apart.

I had wanted to follow in the footsteps of my mentor, Danielle, once I entered the arena. Take control of the Career pack in the same dominating way as last year. Even a massive flood that covered two thirds of the arena couldn't derail Danielle's plans.

But the opposition don't fall for the same tricks twice. I managed to gain control of the Career Alliance just as Danielle did with an impressive performance at the cornucopia (well, I thought it was an impressive performance, I got three kills; the boys from Seven and Ten, the girl from District 6), but the other Careers were more questioning than the group last year. Even by sunset on the first day, when seventeen tributes were still alive in the arena, my leadership of the Career Alliance was being challenged.

It was Hyacinth, the girl from District 2, who finally took power from me on the third evening. Ashamed of my defeat, I took a quiet role in the group whilst plotting my escape.

On day six, following a verbal confrontation (which later turned physical) with the boy from District 1, I left the three remaining Careers behind me, convinced that I could win the Games on my own.

And now I stand on the small, sandy island that holds the cornucopia (the arena is a series of ten or fifteen small tropical islands) twenty yards away from Hyacinth, who is the only tribute separating me from District 4. She's tall at nearly six feet high, and is of a slender build. Unlike me, Hyacinth has been able to keep her blonde hair tied back, something which might sway our enevitable battle in her favour. She has a loaded bow, although from training I know that she favours knives, and two arrows. I only have a six-inch combat knife, as I lost my sword escaping those shifting shapes in the water between the islands (they were undoubtedly mutts of some sort).

"Having trouble over there, District 4?" calls Hyacinth.

I could have guessed that she would make some sort of remark. After my attack in the water, my clothes are ripped, my hair is matted and tangled, and my limbs are covered in hundreds of tiny, bloody cuts. Some of the larger ones still sting from the salty water I dragged myself through to reach this island. I look like I've been to hell and back.

I choose not to answer Hyacinth's question.

"How'd you get rid of District 1?" I ask by means of a reply. The boy from District 1 had finished third in this year's Games.

Hyacinth laughs.

"I slit his throat whilst he slept," she boasts. "The stupid fool slept unarmed."

"Coward."

"What did you say?" snaps Hyacinth.

"I called you a coward," I taunt. "Don't you find it below you to kill unarmed children?"

I know that I have enranged Hyacinth, not only because of the dangerous shade of purple that her face has become, but because I have to drop to the ground quickly to avoid being impaled by an arrow. Now that I know that the fight has begun, I sprint at Hyacinth before she can load her second arrow and tackle her to the floor. She drops her bow on impact but manages to land a punch on me as she falls, and I hit the ground beside her.

Hyacinth is back on her feet before I am, and stamps on my hands, forcing me to reflexively drop my knife. I lunge at her feet with my hands, and pull her ankles so that she falls to the ground again. Then I dive on her, and we tussle on the floor for a few moments, equalling each other. During this fight, I manage to retrieve Hyacinth's final arrow from the quiver on her back. The arrowhead is sharp enough to be used as a weapon, and I manage to keep hold of the weapon until I finally pin Hyacinth to the floor.

For the first time, I see her eyes show something other than arrogance; fear.

I then watch Hyacinth's eyes bulge with pain as I drive the arrowhead through her neck.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**The First Quarter Quell will be posted tomorrow!**


	25. Burn

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, Violagirl23 and coaster317 for reviewing the last chapter!**

**As promised, here's today's Games; The First Quarter Quell.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"Warning came, no-one cared**

**Earth was shaking, we stood and stared**

**When it came, no-one was spared."**

**- David Coverdale, 1974.**

* * *

**The 25th Annual Hunger Games (The First Quarter Quell)**

**Arturo Foster (18), District 2 Male**

**Deep Purple- Burn (1974)**

* * *

I always expected I would enter the arena.

Well, ever since those words came out of President Shawcross' mouth at the Quell announcement in April.

_"This year, as a reminder to the rebels that their children are dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district will hold an election and vote on the tributes who will represent it."_

The elections took place on the second Saturday of July; the day before the reaping. The following day, there was only one name in each of the reaping balls across Panem.

And one of those names was mine.

It wasn't my fault, not really.

It wasn't my fault that I was born short-tempered.

It wasn't my fault that Rubeus was asking for it.

Far worse atrocities have been committed by children far younger than me in the Training Centre, but in the eyes of District 2, I'm a murderer.

And that was all that mattered on the day of the election.

I burst out into the bright light of the arena from the dark tubes and I'm immediately stunned by the arena.

The twenty-four pedestals are situated on a circular ridge; a vertical cliff-face in front, a steep scree slope behind. In front of the cliff, there is only a thirty-foot drop into a lava lake. Behind me, the scree slope extends downwards for fifty yards or so, until a cloud layer blocks my view. It takes me a few moments, but I realise what the arena is.

The arena is a volcano.

The cornucopia is situated in the centre of the large crater at the centre of the volcano, towering above the lava on a pillar of basalt. There is a rickety rope bridge, with wooden planks placed at irregular intervals as footholds, leading from each pedestal to the cornucopia.

I must be cautious when approaching the cornucopia, as there are no alliances this year. District 4 voted for two hopeless cases (neither of them are older than fifteen), and my district partner is fourteen. Only the citizens thought to vote for the winners of their reaping trials, and so District 1 brought two stereotypical Careers to the Games. Along with the tributes District 1, I am the highest scorer in the arena; all three of us scored tens. I must watch out for them at the bloodbath.

Then the gong sounds, and the First Quarter Quell begins.

I take my time crossing the rope bridge, which sways unevenly, and at least six tributes reach the cornucopia before I do. When I finally arrive, I quickly throw a punch at the thirteen-year-old boy from District 4, and I catch him squarely in the face. He staggers backwards before toppling off of the edge of the pillar. I don't stay to watch the boy become engulfed in the lava.

I turn to see a younger girl wielding a longsword which is clearly too big for her. I wrestle the sword from her and take a swing at her neck, cleanly decapitating the girl. As her body collapses to the floor, I become aware of two heavily-armed tributes behind her. It's the brother and sister duo named Glitz and Glamour; the tributes of District 1. Turning to run, I run my sword through another boy who stands in my way before finding the nearest rope bridge.

I nearly lose my footing twice on the bridge before sprinting again once I reach the far side.

I had forgotten about the scree slope.

Over and over I tumble for what feels like eternity amidst a torrent of loose rocks and gravel. Battered and bruised, I lose my sword quickly, which tumbles down the slope beside me.

When I finally come to a standstill at the bottom of the volcano, it takes me a couple of minutes to take in my surroundings. Looking away from the volcano, I can only see a sea of sand. Suddenly it dawns on me that I am alone in the desert, without supplies and without weapons.

Now the Games must begin for real.

* * *

**A/N: We're a third of the way through the story! Only fifty more to go...**

**If you've enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	26. Neon Noon

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, coaster317, charliesunshine and Burningbrightforever for reviewing!**

**After requests for this from both coaster317 and Chop n thunder, I will now be writing how the Games were won by each tribute in the author's notes at the end of the chapter, if the final showdown isn't included in the oneshot.**

**Also, after a couple of people being unsure how Arturo managed to survive the Quell, I should explain that he found his sword which had fallen down the scree slope along with him, and survived a day in the desert before ambushing the District 1 tributes (who had all the cornucopia supplies), killing Glitz and taking supplies for himself. After spending the next fortnight slowly whittling down the number of tributes. Then snake mutts from the desert forced the final two, Arturo and Glamour, back up the slopes to the corncucopia atop the volcano, where a swordfight ensued, with Arture becoming the eventual victor.**

**But anyway, on with today's oneshot; the 26th Annual Hunger Games.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"I never thought you'd understand**

**The years were slipping out of our hands**

**And all we ever wanted to be**

**Was floating in the emerald sky**

**Our skeletons remain under a Neon Noon."**

**- Sergio Pizzorno, 2011.**

* * *

**The 26th Annual Hunger Games**

**Ivy Grant (18), District 2 Female**

**Kasabian- Neon Noon (2011)**

* * *

The late morninglight shines down upon the arena. Watery light, as in the arena it feels like it is only the first week of March, not late July. I sit alone, huddled up by the fire on the ledge outside the cave that I now know as home.

I sit alone.

I can't break down again. Not like I did yesterday when he died. But I can feel the pain welling up inside me, and I know it is all I can do to keep my composure. I can afford to let anyone see just how much his death affected me.

I always knew this would be the case. For as long as I have known Darius, I knew that there would be the day that we would have to fight each other. I never ealised how important that day would be, though. Until now.

I retrospect, I would have preferred for him to have died in the reaping trials. There, in an arena full of twenty other boys his age, where Darius' fate was out of control. Here, in the Capitol's arena, I only have myself to blame for his death.

At least in his final days he was in a place of beauty.

It seems as though all the Gamemake's creative capabilities were thrown in the Quell arena, and so very little has been done to make this year's arena a challenge for us. Most of the time, the Gamemakers leave us to fend for ourselves with no intervention. The arena is faily bland, although there is a serene beauty to it. A wide, near-circular grassland that holds the corncucopia, ringed with steep slopes lined with deciduous trees. It must be four miles from one side of the arena to the other, but everything is open. There are very few places to hide.

Which is why I thought that we would be safe when we fought off the other Careers and found refuge in this small cave. The District 1 tributes argued too much between each other too much to give much resistance against me and Darius when their time came, and no matter what the girl from Four tried to do, it was two against one. The boy from Four was never included in our alliance; he was only fourteen, and no-one volunteered for him. He died at the cornucopia bloodbath on the first day.

With only seven tributes left alive and no more highly-trained Careers in our way, I thought that Darius and I wold have an easy run to the final two, where I would finally have to make the choice between friendship and survival. I never anticipated that another tribute would actually seek us out.

But seek us out, he did. The boy from District 5, armed with two spears. I wasn't even paying much attention on guard duty; a mistake that I will always regret.

The first that I knew of the threat, the spearhead was poking through Darius' bloodied chest. I didn't even see the other boy until my district partner collapsed, allowing me to see his assailant.

The thought of Darius' pale body lying on the rocky ledge where I sit now bring tears to my eyes again. My heart sank like a stone as I watched him collapse. I remeber staring for what seemed like eterninty as he cried out, like spilling out of him with his blood. All my senses were focused on him. The boy from Five no longer mattered. Time stood still as I watched my friend die.

And then he was gone, and he created the void in my life that I hoped would never be made. He was gone, never look back upon what he had, and what might have been.

You never realise how close you are to the end until it is all gone.

And I know that me and Darius had it all worked out wrong.

Why train for seven years for something that is always likely to kill you? Your odds of winnning might improve from 4% to maybe 10% due to training, but giving away a third of your life and still end up losing the Games? It really isn't worth it.

We never understood that whilst we spent eight hours a day training, our remaining years were slipping away. We should have done more with our life. We have spent seven years preparing for our deaths.

In my mind, I can still see Darius' limp, pale, _lifeless_ body lying on the cold stone. He should have been given respect; buried where he died. He'd have liked that. For a Career, Darius was quite a caring and considerate person, particularly to the world around us.

His body should have remained in this tranquil woodland, under the synthetic noon.

The boy from District 5 died, of course. Slowly and painfully. I deliberately used Darius' combat axe (a weapon that I most definitely do not prefer) to kill the boy, because I knew I would make a bad job of it. His death was slower and more painful that he could have ever imagined.

Aside from the axe and the spear that I took from the boy from Five, all I have is my bow and seven arrows that I haven't yet used. Yesterday evening, another tribute died, meaning that only four of us now remain. At some point soon, I imagine that the Gamemakers will force us together. And when they do, the other three will die slow, torturously painful deaths, just as the boy from District 5 did.

And I _will_ kill them all.

For Darius.

* * *

**Two days after this oneshot, forest fires set by the Gamemakers forced the remaining four tributes into the grasslands near the cornucopia. One, the girl from District 12, was killed by the fires, but the other two, the boys from Seven and Eight, survived to fight against Ivy. The boy from Eight was quickly downed, but the boy from District 7 died a slow, painful death at Ivy's hands.**

* * *

**A/N: I hope the summary of the Games (above) was useful! Please let me know if you think it's a useful addition to the chapter.**

**If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is most definitely welcomed.**


	27. Nice Guys Finish Last

**A/N: Happy Easter, and thanks to richards25 and dreamzspark for reviewing the last chapter!**

**This one's been a bit of a rush to get together for today, I've been becoming engrossed in other fanfiction projects. Anyone ever heard of 'Mortal Engines' by Philip Reeve? No? Thought not. READ IT.**

**But, I digress. Here's the 27th Games, I hope you enjoy it.**

**P.S. This victor eventually becomes the female morphling who sacrifices herself to the monkey mutts to save Peeta in 'Catching Fire'.**

**"Nice guys finish last**

**You're running out of gas**

**Your sympathy will get you left behind."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1997.**

* * *

**The 27th Annual Hunger Games**

**Molly Higgins (16), District 6 Female**

**Green Day- Nice Guys Finish Last (1997)**

* * *

Being from a non-Career district, there was only one way I could win these Games.

Especially as a tribute of District 6. We have no real industry, so I can't have picked up any useful skills to help me prepare for the Games in my youth. Our industry is transport; not an industry as such, but we provide the inter-district transport, allowing the other districts' products to reach the Capitol.

There's nothing for a little girl to do on the railways, I tell you.

Hell, even District 9 have had more victors than us. And what do they do? They're mere farmers. Actually, thinking about it, farm tools could make damn good weapons. I need to stop thinking about this, I'm just contradicting myself. Ugh, the arena is really messing with my head.

But you get the idea. Our district is severely underprepared for the Games. It's a miracle that Melissa won, although her victory is now over a generation ago. The oldest eligible tributes for this year's Games were born after her Games.

Just like every year, what really counts in the Hunger Games is the support of the Capitol citizens. Support means sponsors. Sponsors mean supplies, and maybe even weapons.

And the only way to gain sponsors is to stand out.

And you can't rely on a sympathy vote, either. Every year, there are too many genuinely frightened, incompetent tributes for that angle to be of any use in terms of sponsors.

The Careers can get away with not making much of an impression. The mere fact that they are in the Career Alliance is enough to convince many in the Capitol that they will have enough strengths to win the Games. After all, most of them have already killed in their reaping trials en route to the Capitol. To them, the arena is nothing new.

So for them, a major slip-up for the them (such as a disastrous training score) can be covered up by their reputation. For the rest of us, there is nowhere to hide when things turn pear-shaped.

And District 6 never gets high training scores. I've been one of our more competent tributes in recent years according to my mentor Melissa, but even I only managed a seven. Slightly better than average. Nohing to make me stand out.

I was already behind in the race for sponsors even before the Games began. I knew that I needed to really, _really _stand out once I entered the arena if I wanted to escape the arena as victor. Some years, high-scoring tributes from the outlying districts are invited to join the Career pack if they score highly enough in training. But unfortunately the Careers didn't want me, so I didn't recieve the benefit of their reputation to aid the chances of me winning sponsors.

I would have earn sponsors the hard way.

Shortly before the reaping, I remember seeing a replay of an earlier Games that had taken place when I was very young. The victor, a boy from District 2, had won because, after growing tired of living in the shadow of his fellow Careers, he had deliberately abandoned his allies in order to show Panem that he was undoubtedly the most brutal and twisted tribute to ever set foot in the arena.

And after his Games, no-one doubted him.

And so I ented the arena with only two goals:

Leave the arena alive.

Show no mercy.

After all, in the Hunger Games, nice guys finish last.

In the arena, sympathy won't get you anything but a knife in the back.

And so I made a name for myself almost immediately in the Games, seeking out the highest-scoring tribute, the girl from District 2, almost immediately.

It angered me to see the look in her eyes as she fell to the ground at my feet; part fear, part humiliation.

_Humiliation._

Humiliated by being killed by a tribute of lowly District 6, of all places.

After that, I no longer cared what I did. Everyone I swung at with my now blood-stained sword during the bloodbath wore the face of the girl from Two. It wasn't until the death recap that night that I realised that I killed seven, including three of the Careers.

I thought I would have to act fierce and brutal once I entered the arena, but I have found enough stored rage after sixteen years in the districts to genuinely mean every last ounce of pain I have dispensed over the last six days. Ten have died by my sword hand already. And now there are only four tributes left, two of them Careers.

I'll make sure that I'm the one to kill them.

After that, no-one will ever underestimate District 6 again.

* * *

**It only took Molly two more days to wipe out the final two tributes, who were the boy from District 3 and the girl from District 4. The other tribute in the final four, the boy from One, was killed by the girl from Four after blades replaced words during an argument.**

**At the time, she had set a new Hunger Games record of the most kills by one tribute; twelve. This bettered the previous record of nine, set by Cicero Turner of District 2 during the 15th Games.**

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it didn't turn out as I had orignally planned it, but I hope you think it's good enough.**

**Please review! I'm still welcoming constructive criticism :)**

**There might not be a chapter tomorrow; social gatherings might get in the way of any potential fanfic-writing time. But there will definitely be another chapter by Tuesday at the latest :)**


	28. Mutiny

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, nintendgal101, coaster317, Burningbright4ever and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**After the last few chapters being (relatively) peaceful, here's a return to some proper action; the violence that gives the Hunger Games its sadistic reputation amongst the districts of Panem.**

**Also, thanks to richards25 for suggesting the name of the District 2 Male in this chapter.**

**I hope you enjoy it, it's been a difficult one for me to write :)**

**"Into the maze through your reflection**

**We enter from a terminal connection."**

**- Rob Swire, 2008.**

* * *

**The 28th Annual Hunger Games**

**Velvet Osman (17), District 1 Female**

**Pendulum- Mutiny (2008)**

* * *

I trudge along the weary tracks as the day before, navigating my way through the arena using our alliance's well-worn hunting routes. I've been following the others through here for days, and the successes of our hunts are becoming less and less frequent. Admittedly, of the eight tributes that remain in the arena, four of them are in the Career Alliance.

I look ahead to the leader of our group; tall, strong, highly skilled, arrogant and unbelievably stupid Wonder, who is my district partner. Does the word 'predictable' mean anything to him? Probably not, otherwise we wouldn't scour the same section of the arena every night for tributes. Just because there is a pine woodland in the arena doesn't mean that all the tributes will use it as shelter. Yet Wonder seems to think that it does.

Nobody has dared to stand up to him yet. But I can see that all the others want to. But we daren't. Partly because Wonder is six foot four, and partly because of the longsword that he has become so attached to over the last fifteen days. But I can see that the others all want to be rid of him. We just don't know how to do it.

Personally, I'm betting on a confrontation between Wonder and the boy from District 2, Vulcan. He's almost Wonder's size, and what he lacks in strength, he makes up for in brains. At some point soon, the two are likely to want to off each other, and then I'm backing on Wonder's face being the one shown in the sky that night.

The fourth member of our alliance, the girl from District 4, is called Grace, and she's quite a shady customer. She's like me; sullen and moody, trapsing along behind the decision-makers, Wonder and Vulcan. She's not really shown any sign of her skills, barring one kill that she made with her bow on the first day at the bloodbath. But even I could have killed another tribute from the range that she was shooting at, and a bow is my third or fourth strongest weapon. I'm much more at home with the set of five sleek, silvery throwing knives in my belt.

As the evening turns to night, I notice Vulcan drop back from the leader to talk to me.

"Good evening, Vulcan," say formally, but apparently he has no time for pleasantries.

"I'm getting fed up with Wonder," he complains. "He's such a fool."

Well, here might be our chance to get rid of him. I've known for a while that Vulcan's been growing tired of him.

"Aren't we all growing tired with him?" I reply.

Vulcan smirks.

"We need to get rid of him," he says. "Quickly."

"Then go and confront him," I say. "You know that I'll be backing you up, if anything goes wrong."

Vulcan nods and calls out to the boy from District 1.

"Oi! Wonder!"

My tall, blonde-haired district partner sighs, and stops walking to face us.

"What is it now?" he complains childishly, as though we have just disrupted him from something that he did not want disturbing.

"Well, look," says Vulcan, slightly irritated himself. "We've been walking for hours, adn what have we got to show for it? Nothing."

"We ned to change our strategy," I say, chipping in. "This is getting us nowhere. We are literally walking round and round in circles."

"There's nothing wrong with the strategy!" Wonder snaps defensively. "We just need to have patience, and then-"

"And then what, Wonder?" I snap. "We've been following your lead for the last fortnight, and nothing is getting done!"

"What we're really trying to say, Wonder," continues Vulcan, backing me up again. "Is that we feel that you should step down as leader of this alliance. No, forget that, we feel that you should _leave_ the alliance."

"_Leave the alliance?_" says Wonder, flustered. I can tell by his quickly reddening cheeks that he's getting very, very angry. Last time he was like this, he killed the girl from District 2. My hand slips around the handle of one of the knives in my belt, anticipating the violence that is surely just around the corner, waiting to happen. "No! I'm not the leaving the alliance! This is _my_ alliance; I formed it, and I-"

Wonder pauses, infuriated, as Grace's arrow flies over his shoulder. I jump backwards as Wonder approaches the younger girl as she fumbles to prepare another arrow, his longsword drawn. The cannon finally fills the void that is created when her screams eventually stop.

Vulcan and I immediately confront Wonder, sadly too late to save our ally. I throw a knife at my district partner, but in the panic my aim suffers, and the blade sinks into his thigh just above the knee.

Wonder curses and reels backwards in pain as Vulcan dives for him, armed only with a dagger.

The two collapse to the ground, and I am reduced to being a mere spectator as the two wrestle on the floor. I could throw another knife at Wonder, but the risk of hitting Vulcan would be too high. For now, we are on the same side.

Finally, I can see a winner of their bout, although I am not pleased with the result.

Wonder pins Vulcan to the floor, Vulcan's dagger at his own throat. I can see his eyes willing up with pain, and then I notice the gash in his right forearm, six inches in length, no doubt caused by his own blade.

There is only one thing that I can do.

As soon as the knife leaves my hand, I know that the throw is good. The blade buries itself up to the handle in my district partner's left temple. He doesn't even scream before collapsing to the floor, and the cannon is almost instant.

I run over to where Vulcan lies, pushing my district partner's corpse off of him before helping Vulcan to his feet.

Then I remember that, with the Career Alliance gone, we are no longer allies. As our eyes meet, I know that he has realised the same thing. And yet neither of us make a move on the other. For some reason, I don't want to finish off Vulcan. Not yet, anyway. And for some reason, he thinks the same about me.

We turn from the scene and run in opposite directions, fleeing into the darkness of the woods.

* * *

**It took another eight days for the next for tributes to die, all of whom had been in the rocky mountains in the northern half of the arena, taking refuge in caves to escape the mountain wolf mutts that roamed the area. The only tributes in the woods had been the Careers, and so eventually only Vulcan and Velvet remained, yet neither would kill each other in the final showdown. Eventually, after a very tough decision on behalf of the Head Gamemaker, the entire woodland was set alight, leaving the two tributes to battle the fires.**

**Eventually, after three hours amidst the flames, Vulcan was the first to succumb to the heat, leaving Velvet Osman as the victor of the 28th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :) **


	29. Ashes

**A/N: Thanks to coaster317, richards25, dreamzspark and Burningbright4ever for reviewing the last chapter!**

**Thanks to Chop n thunder for giving me the victor for this Games, I appreciate the help.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"Now watch me rise up and leave all the ashes you made out of me**

**When you said that we were wrong, life goes on, just look at how long I've agreed."**

**- Danny McNamara, 2004.**

* * *

**The 29th Annual Hunger Games**

**Dax Kennedy (18), District 5 Male**

**Embrace- Ashes (2004)**

* * *

I can completely understand why the arena has grown to have such a reputation.

It is completely relentless.

There is nowhere to hide.

Try to hide, and the Gamemakers will hunt you down.

There is no escape, there is only the arena.

This grim reality is all-encompassing, espacially as I walk on what will be my final journey in the Games.

I'm just glad that it is all about to end. Seventeen days have passed since I first set foot in the arena. And they have been the hardest seventeen days of my life.

I had scored high in training; an eight, the highest of the tributes from the non-Career districts, joint fourth-highest of all. I was offered a place in the Career alliance, and I turned it down. Alliances only lead to trouble. A fleeting trust, and then either death or someone else's death on your conscience. There always could be a third option, but the end of last year's Games highlighted that that would not be a desirable way to go, either.

And so, for the last seventeen days, I have walked the arena alone. I haven't even had to kill yet. I've been incredibly lucky, after finding a long, curved knife in the backpack that I found thirty yards out from the cornucopia on the first day. I really couldn't have been any luckier. My family run the butcher's shop back at home in District 5, so I have used more than my fair share of these knives during my eighteen years. Yet I haven't had to use one in the last two weeks.

I'm convinced the Gamemakers have given me an easy time on purpose. The Careers are so powerful, they want to give another district a victor. District 5 hasn't won since my mentor, Jared Parker. And I wasn't even alive when he left the arena.

I kept myself to myself amidst this flat jungle arena, which seems to be split in two by a wide, deep river that flows the whole length of our environment. I only needed to look up at the sky each night to see how easy a time I was having. Fourteen tributes left at the end of day one. Then twelve. Eleven. Ten on day five. Then eight. Seven on day nine. Then six. Five.

And finally, down to three today.

Then the fires came.

The whole of the eastern end of the arena was a wall of flames, starting less than a hundred metres from my camp for the previous night. I had run blindly, as panic had taken over me. But I knew that I moved quicker than the fire, and soon I had slowed to a jog, my knife drawn, on the look for other tributes escaping the fire.

Then I found someone.

I knew that it was the girl from District 2, as she was the only female left in the arena the previous evening. But the charred figure lying in front of me was barely recognisable as anyone. Clothers and flesh had burnt away, leaving just the bone visible from the legs down. It took me a couple of moments to regain my composure after seeing the corpse, which still haunts my thoughts, and take into account what it meant.

She had been running towards me. So the fire had to be in front of me, too.

This revelation was met by fresh smoke blowing towards me from in front of me, and I looked up to see the flames forty or fifty yards from my position. There was only one way to go; towards the river.

Oh, how I had sprinted as the fire enulfed the forest all around me, desperately trying to reach the cooler climate by the river's edge and the cooling waters of the river itself.

It took me five minutes to reach the banks of the river, but my troubles were not over. The fire had reached the river's edge along with me, and the heat was still stifling along the banks. In front of me lay forest untouched by the flames, separated from me by forty yards of dirty, muddy water.

In retrospect, I should have questioned several things before diving into the river. I should have questioned the currents, and whether I would have been able to cope with them. I should have questioned what lay in wait for me in the river, and whether I would have been likely to fight whatever there was off. I should have taken into account the fact that, being from a landlocked district, I can't swim. But I didn't and I jumped blindly into the river.

It was a miracle that I made it to the other side. I was barely managing to keep my head above water, and I'm convinced I took a couple of lungfuls of the stuff along the way. I had no control, no sense of direction. I was lucky that nothing was lying in wait in the water, but I guess that the Gamemakers had thought that I had already suffered enough, which was true. The currents were strong, and miraculously I eventually ended up, worn out and spluttering, being washed up on the safe banks of the river.

I took me a couple of minutes to come back to my senses from such a lucky escape. Now I walk upstream along the banks of the river, checking the jungle on my right for the boy from One, the only other tribute left alive in the arena. I know nothing about him, except for his appearance and his training score of ten. I can guess that he will be well-fed and well-armed; I can almost guarantee that he is a favourite among the sponsors.

But now there is nothing I can do but wait for our eventual encounter, as no doubt the Gamemakers will force him towards me, anyway.

There is nothing to do except stare across the river to the ashes of the forest that I had, for two weeks, called home.

* * *

**It took four more hours for the Games to end. When, after the Gamemakers saw the the two tributes were still not likely to meet, the fires started to burn on the previously safe side of the island. The boy from District 1 was dehydrated, severely burned on his right arm, and due to this injury, he was also weaponless by the time the two tributes finally met, leaving Dax with an easy kill to claim victory in the 29th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. I know that a lot of you are offering me plenty of tributes/victors, for use in this story, but I'm finding it hard to fit any of them in. I'm trying to keep this story in canon with my other stories 'Second Time Unlucky', which have already made references to at least thirty or forty victors, whcih now can't be replaced. As they come from various districts, I'm finding myself filling in the years between their Games with Careers, as, in the words of the original books, the tributes of Districts 1, 2 and 4 "win the Games almost every year."**

**And so, from now on, I can say that I won't be using any tributes that are given to me as victors, and nor will I be open to suggestions as to who will win the next Games, because I already have it all planned out.**

**I can already tell you that sixteen-year-old Fernando James will win the 36th Games for District 10, and that Auriel Hope will win the 58th Games for District 4.**

**But for all my preparations when it comes to tributes, the same can't be said for arenas.**

**I am in DESPERATE need of arena ideas, as I'm about out (excluding a couple of special ones that I'm saving for special Games). If you've got any ideas, please, _please _send them to me!**

**Anyway, sorry the author's note was so long, I just had to get my point across.**

**I'll be updating again tomorrow, with my oneshot for the 30th Annual Hunger Games :)**


	30. Underdog

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, Burningbrightforyou, FScSeG0403 and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**Also, thanks for plenty of arena ideas! The next ten arenas should be rather original now :)**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**"Kill me if you dare**

**Hold my head up everywhere**

**Keep myself right on this train**

**I'm the underdog**

**Live my life on a lullaby**

**Keep myself riding on this train."**

**- Tom Meighan, 2009.**

* * *

**The 30th Annual Hunger Games**

**Ruby Peters (18), District 1 Female**

**Kasabian- Underdog (2009)**

* * *

I'm amazed that the Games were even held this year, after everything that's gone on. In the aftermath of last year's Hunger Games, which were considered a bit of a downer by the Capitol audience, there was the public humiliation for the Head Gamemaker, who was sacked for undisclosed reasons. It took four months for Tiberius Greenwood to be named as the successor, and by that time, the Victory Tour was almost upon us. Surely there wouldn't be time to finish this year's arena?

To make matters worse, President Shawcross passed away in May aged 97, just nine weeks from the reaping, under suspicious circumstances. But now, in only the fourth week of the reign of President Coriolanus Snow, the Hunger Games are continuing as normal. I'm sure that all the districts had the same hopes as District 1, that with the President gone, maybe the Games would have come to an end. But it seems like Snow has even less interest in stopping the Hunger Games than the Games' creator.

And here I am, in the arena for the 30th Games. The war with the Capitol started thirty-six years ago? Surely the districts have suffered enough? But before I can hope for the end of the Games, I have to make sure I reach the end of these Games. After all, if I don't, I'll be dead.

Even before I entered the arena, I was at a disadvantage. I tried to make sure that I didn't show all my abilities to the Gamemakers in the private sessions, so that I wasn't going to be singled out as a target once the Games begin. I made sure not to show them my stealth; my biggest strength. However, not only was I not singled out, my score was almost too low for the Careers to still offer me a place in their alliance. I only scored a seven.

But I know that I'm worth at least a ten, and that's all that really matters. The others don't know it; they just see me as a weakling amongst the allies. An underdog. They know I've got something up my sleeve when I abandoned them on day four. I can't use stealth within a group of six lumbering, heavy-footed Careers, so I made sure to distance myself from them as soon as possible. In the alliance, they would only see me as a weakling, as I wouldn't be able to use my strengths, and I would no doubt end up as the first one that the other Careers would turn on.

The arena seems really odd to me. A bowl-shaped arena, with high, snowy, rocky mountains around all sides, with the thin woods that cling to the sides of the hills offering the only form of shelter in the arena. In the centre, for possibly two miles around the cornucopia, there is a flat layer of ice, possibly two hundred feet thick. Some tributes, who think themselves to be good runners or great at moving around on the slippery ice, keep to this large open space, making sure to keep a hundred metres between themselves and the thin woods, so that if a tribute makes a charge at them, they have enough notice to make an escape successfully.

However, from my own quick expeditions onto the ice, I know that the ice is clear, and that you can look down to what is beneath it.

Under the ice, there is only a lava lake.

You can notice its effects on the arena as the days pass. Each day, the layer of ice moves twenty feet down the slopes of the mountains as the lava lake takes its effect. In a week's time, ninety percent of the arena will be fire as the last segments of ice melt. It's as though the whole Games are on a timer, with the Gamemakers calling to us "you will kill each other within a week, or burn."

I don't know if my strategy will allow me to finish everyone else off within a week, but I'll have to give it my best shot; it's the only choice I have.

* * *

**Seven days later, when the ice layer was virtually gone, eight tributes were still alive, including five Careers. When, four hours before the final ice layer melted, the Careers realised what was going to happen, they turned on each other in the middle of the ice. Four were killed off, and the only surviving Career, the boy from Four, was so heavily injured that he was unable to escape from the ice field before the lava reached him.**

**The three remaining tributes who had stuck to the mountains (Ruby, the District 3 Female and the boy from Eight) were then forced higher and higher as the Gamemakers proceeded to raise the levels of the lava lake until nearly all of the arena was submerged in the flames. The boy from eight fell first, and the girl from Three was taken down when she attempted to climb a tree to escape the advancing flames. However, the fact that wood burns was her downfall, and the flames climbed the tree trunk to bring about her downfall.**

**Blind luck was Ruby's key to success; the mountain that she clambered up to ecape the lava was much easier to climb that the mountains that the other two tributes attempted to climb.**

* * *

**A/N: I'm really not sure on this one, the main points in this are that Panem is going through a time of change, which culminated in President Snow's rise to power.**

**Still, let me know what you think, and please review! As ever, I'm welcoming constructive criticism :)**

**I don't know if I'll be able to do many more daily updates, school starts again next week, but I guess I'll just have to see how much time I have on my hands :)**


	31. The Battle of Evermore

**A/N: Thanks to Burningbrightforyou, Chop n thunder, richards25 and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**I've gone for something a bit different again today, so please let me know what you think. I will admit, this chapter is influenced heavily by a scene from the game Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. If you've played the single player part of that game, I think you'll find the link rather obvious.**

**This victor is the male morphling in Catching Fire, by the way.**

**Regardless, I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"Oh, dance in the dark of night, sing to the morning light**

**The Dark Lord rides in force tonight, and time will tell us all."**

**- Robert Plant, 1971.**

* * *

**The 31st Annual Hunger Games**

**Blake Carlton (16), District 6 Male**

**Led Zeppelin- The Battle of Evermore (1971)**

* * *

The healthy human mind doesn't wake up thinking _this is its last day on Earth._

But in my eyes, that's a luxury, not a curse.

After two weeks in the arena and twenty-two dead tributes, I know that I'm nearing the end. To embrace this reality is... Liberating. I know that whatever I do now won't matter.

I stop my travels for a moment, to prepare myself and take inventory. Weapons are all that matters now; I don't plan on eating another meal or spending another night in the arena. There is a sword; my favoured weapon. A spear, which will be of little use. After all, I can only throw it once. One knife. Not particularly useful, but a good backup incase I somehow lose my sword. That's it.

Compared to the boy from District 2, and you will see how one-sided the finale will be. No doubt he will have the remainder of the cornucopia supplies. Not only that, he scored four points higher than me in training. Four points. He has over 150% of my score, which was a seven. He's taller than me. Stronger. Faster. Better equipped.

Some would say that fighting him would be parallel to suicide.

But here in Panem, where the land has been scarred with thousands of years of warfare, my final struggle will be broadcast to the entire nation.

They will remember me.

For this.

Because out of the vast array of nightmares available in the land of poverty that we call Panem, this is the one that me and the boy from District 2 have chosen for ourselves with two relatively insignificant words.

I volunteer.

And so, why my time comes, I shall stare death in the face until the end. I will die courageously. I will die with honour.

But I will not give up, even when I know that the fight is lost.

I shall go forward with vigour in my heart and one goal in sight:

I.

Will.

Kill him.

* * *

**And so Blake, who had volunteered to save his younger brother at the reaping, managed one of the greatest shocks in Hunger Games history. He defied all the odds to defeat the boy from District 2 in a long and bloody battle on the fifteenth day of the Games, sustaining many injuries but eventually emerging victorious.**

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter was so short, but I felt like there was a certain completion to it in its current form.**

**Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	32. Children of the Revolution

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, scherre, Burningbrightforyou and dreamzspark for reviewing!**

**I don't know where this chapter came from, as it doesn't really suit the song, but I think it's decent enough :)**

**Here's another familiar face, I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"You won't fool the children of the revolution."**

**- Marc Bolan, 1972.**

* * *

**The 32nd Annual Hunger Games**

**Seeder King (17), District 11 Female**

**T-Rex- Children of the Revolution (1972)**

* * *

I'm amazed the Capitol let them get away with it. But they have.

When some smart-arse District 2 victor thought it was a good idea to try to train up his District's children to help them survive the arena, I felt sure that the Peacekeepers would arrest him. But they didn't. He got away with it because the Capitol thought that a couple of trained tributes would spice up the Games for the audience. Then the victors of District 4 joined in on the act, as did the newly-crowned victor from District 1.

And so the Career Alliance was formed.

In the twenty-five years since District 1's tributes joined the alliance, the Careers have won the Hunger Games sixteen times. Sixteen. When another district (I believe it was District 7) tried to train their own Careers, the Capitol came down on them hard. Apparently only Districts 1, 2 and 4 can train tributes.

The frustrating thing isn't that only tributes from those three district can train tributes. The frustrating thing is that the districts of the Career alliance were decided by who had won the first five or six Games. And those first few Games had been won mainly by dumb luck; back in the days before Careers, there was always a relatively even playing field. But now the Careers win almost every year. The tributes of the other districts aren't expected to win, and they rarely ever do. My district is always at a disadvantage before our tributes even set foot in the arena.

I would have thought that the Districts would unite against the Capitol to resist the districts' treatment. In reality, the opposite has occured. The Capitol has managed to turn the districts against each other through the Hunger Games. Even though I know that I shouldn't have, I have an irrational hatred of Augustus Holt, the aged Hunger Games veteran from District 2 who created the Career Alliance nearly thirty years ago. He's mentoring again this year, and it doesn't surprise me that along with myself, the boy from District 2 has reached the final ten. Of course, the other five Careers are still alive, too. Nearly every year, all six Careers survive the early stages of the Games. It's no wonder that the Career districts have a cumulative total of twenty victors from thirty-two Games. Barely anyone makes it home from the outer districts.

In fact, two districts are still victorless after thirty-two years of torture. District 3 and my own district, District 11. Since the tributes of Disrict 1 joined the Career Alliance, fifty young men and women of District 11 have died in the Hunger Games. Yes, we have been close some years, but we've never managed to get any of our children home alive from the Capitol. I'd like to think that if it wasn't for the Careers, we'd have two or three victors by now. But the Careers are here, and it looks as though they are here to stay. But even if no Careers volunteer ever again (which won't happen), it won't help me at all. I'm stuck in an arena with six of them.

But still, I cling on to the hope that maybe, just _maybe_, this year will be the year of District 11.

* * *

**Luckily for Seeder, she never had to fight the Career pack. In an arena where the season changed every two days, the second winter brought a fierce snowstorm that wiped out the Careers' supplies. Without supplies the Careers chose to fight each other rather than starve, and so five of their number were culled in an hour. The sixth Career, the girl from District Four, died of her wounds the following day.**

**With the demise of the Careers, the numbers in the arena dropped from eight to two. It was two days later when Seeder defeated the boy from District 5 using a blowgun, poisonous darts and a little common sense to claim victory in the 32nd Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. To any District 3 fans out there: I'm aware that District 3 is still victorless, but don't worry; Beetee's Games are coming up soon :)**


	33. Under the Waves

**A/N: Reviews are now into three digits, so very big thanks to richards25, Burningbrightforyou, charliesunshine, Mads515 and mangesboy01 for reviewing!**

**This victor was briefly mentioned in the early chapters of my story 'Mentor', so here's another District 4.**

**Also, it's been a while since I wrote a bloodbath oneshot, so I just really felt like writing one.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"I am deep in a river**

**Waves above my head**

**Held with no spirit**

**We descend**

**We reach the end."**

**- Rob Swire, 2010.**

* * *

**The 33rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Cale Edwards (18), District 4 Male**

**Pendulum- Under the Waves (2010)**

* * *

As we rose up onto the pedestals, I knew roughly what to expect. The fact that all the tributes had been given diving gear and scuba equipment indicated a water-based arena. Good. I'm a decent swimmer by District 4's standards. Standards that are undoubtedly much higher than other, land-locked district. Even before I'd seen the arena, I was feeling confident.

My suspicions proved to be correct. And so here I stand on my pedestal, awaiting the start of the 33rd Annual Hunger Games.

Unlike previous years, the pedestals are arranged in a semi circle along the curved beach of a lagoon. The sand slopes steeply down to the edge of the clear water, through which I can see the gold of the cornucopia around fifty yards from the shore. Above, the sky is cloudless and reminds me of a sunny day in August back at home in District 4. Beneath a sky-blue wetsuit and diving gear, the heat was starting to make me feel slightly uncomfortable. Looking behind me, the land rises steeply upwards, and the sparsely populated woods that cling to the slopes also remind me of District 4.

Looking along the semicircle of pedestals, I try to find my allies. At first I find it difficult due to the fact that everyone is wearing masks due to their scuba equipment, but I quickly realise that every district has their tributes' wetsuits coloured in the colour of their district. The first of my allies that I spot is the tall boy in the sandy yellow wetsuit of District 2. I also work out that the tribute in black on my right is the boy from Twelve, and that the girl in white on my right is from District 5. Then before I can spot any more of my allies, the gong sounds and the Games begin.

I sprint to the water instinctively and dive in, not surprised to hear splashes all around me as at least ten others join me in the water. Beneath me I can see the golden horn of the cornucopia lying on the sandy sea bed thirty metres below the surface. I dive down towards it, and I am surprised when a girl beats me to it. Then I realise that she is in the sky blue of District 4 and that the girl Miranda, my district partner. She wasn't trained at the Training Centre like me, and she didn't volunteer for the Games, but that never stopped Miranda from being the fastest swimmer in my school year. Quickly I follow her into the cornucopia, the other tributes hot on our heels.

We search around for the only thing that matters to us at this stage; weapons. We find a lot of weapons such as swords and bows that would be of use above ground, but they won't help us here. In the end, in the end I settle with a combat knfe whilst Miranda grabs two harpoons. We wait a few moments for our allies to arrive, but no-one does. Slowly I begin to realise how much of a problem the water is to the other tributes. Surely this would be a perfect opportunity to take out the other Careers?

"Miranda!" I call, and my district partner turns to face me. "Should we just forget about the alliance? They're hopeless."

Miranda continues to stare at me for a while, and for a moment I'm worried that either she didn't understand me (the scuba mask slightly muffles my voice) or she's still thinking about my proposal. Then she turns and swims from the cornucopia, and I know that she has understood me. I know that I have no choice but to follow Miranda outside.

When I arrive at the entrance of the horn the first thing I see is a masked figure in the royal blue of District 1, a harpoon buried in their chest, clouds of blood surrounding them. Behind them I can see Miranda, who is poised to throw her second harpoon at the other tribute from One.

I'm forced to duck as another large tribute dives towards me, heading towards the cornucopia. With Miranda out the way, it's up to me to stop them reaching the cornucopia. I follow the boy, who is from District 2, into the horn.

Inside, I watch the boy frantically grabs a bow as I close him down, armed only with a knife. I lunge at him, slashing at his face with my knife before he can prepare an arrow. The blade doesn't touch his face, but it slashes through his mask, cutting of his air supply. I watch the boy, who is cut off from the air at the surface by the roof of the cornucopia, scramble towards the exit of the horn, but I already know that it will be too late for him.

Leaving the cornucopia behind, I can see four bodies in the water surrounding it. Bodies that belong to both from One and the girls from Two and Seven. Miranda, who is now alone because everyone else has either fled or lies dead in the water, swims over to me. She looks tired, but we can't stop now.

"We need to grab all the supplies quickly," I tell her as she reaches me. "We need to get out of here."

* * *

**After the underwater bloodbath, the remaining nineteen tributes took to the small island. Cale and Miranda remained allied until the final five, when the pair split by mutual consent. Miranda was then hunted down and killed by the boy from District 7, who was killed in turn by Cale during the final showdown of the Games.**

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**A/N: If you have enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	34. Dirty Rotten Bastards

**A/N: Two hundred and forty days. That's how long there is until the premiere of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. So why oh WHY did the trailer have to come out so soon? It's just cruel...**

**Also, I apologise for the lack of chapters in the last few days. Now, this has been partly due to the fact that exams are getting close and spring has finally come (I really have been playing too much football for my own good), but also because I've been re-reading one of my favourite fanfics. If you haven't read "Owned" by speccy13, I really, really recommend it.**

**There's been a long list of reviewers lately, so here goes... Thanks to richards25, mangesboy01, Burningbrightforyou, charliesunshine, lucylovesbooks, dreamzspark, FScSeG0403 and Roxibilly for reviewing. I really do appreaciate the support.**

**Also, the name of this victor was suggested to me by and the arena is an adapted version of an arena that I read about in a story by Vykktor, so I'd like to thank him for his influence.**

**Anyway, without further ado, on with the belated chapter. I hope you enjoy it :)**

**"Calling all demon, this is the season**

**Next stop is therapy**

**We're the retarded and the broken-hearted**

**The season of misery.**

**Here's to the wasted, I can almost taste it**

**The rejects, the wastes of times**

**Gonna take it further, get away with murder**

**And no-one here is getting out alive."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2012.**

* * *

**The 34th Annual Hunger Games**

**Iris Stephenson (18), District 2 Female**

**Green Day- Dirty Rotten Bastards (2012)**

* * *

It's odd to think about why we are all here together. Some of us are unlucky. Some of us are brave. Some of us are foolhardy, and others just downright stupid. Many of us are frightened. But that's the Hunger Games for you.

The members of my group have been waiting for this season for the last seven years. It is the middle of summer, and the Hunger Games have arrived once again. Just like my allies, I've spent my life since the age of eleven training for this Games. I was always confident that I would arrive in the arena; one of the trainers at the Training Centre, a woman in her thirties named Rose, always had full confidence in me. Even though Ivy is my mentor this year, I know that Rose will be backing me to win back at home.

Many of us have different reasons for training for the Games. We all knew that it would be a tough life; long hours of training, little time for yourself, every waking moment spent in preparation for something that will only bring misery to the masses. And for the victor, a half-life as a shell of the person they once were. A hollow life plagued by the traumas of the arena. Many victors (including some of the trainers in District 2) spend years with mental illness, unaided by therapy.

Still, some of us are stupid enough to still see the glorious life that victors lead in front of the cameras and train for themselves. Others are so broken by the poverty of the districts that they begin to train to escape poverty, like me. It didn't matter how many tesserae I took for my family; I was trained for the Games anyway. Others, like one boy I knew at home, began to train because there was nothing else left for him to do with his life. An orphan who had dropped out of school, he could only hide the sorrow in his training. And if he was to die, then he has nothing to lose. He died, of course; even though he won his trials, he was defeated by the fact that District 2 is landlocked; he never learnt how to swim. Not properly, at least. Well, he was defeated by that and a strong young boy from District 4 called Cale Edwards. He died at the cornucopia in last year's Games.

Others join because of self-esteem. Rejected by their community, they try to prove to themselves and everyone else that they are of worth by training. There are the odd elite who are the children of victors; a couple have passed through the system. Giovanni Holt became a trainer when his father pulled him out of the trials after almost bleeding to death whilst fighting for the right to volunteer. The other twenty-two male trainees died in the trials, and Darius died in the Games. I guess even victors show compassion at times. We've had Lilac Turner, too; the daughter of Cicero. She's a couple of years younger than me, and the strongest of her year. No doubt she'll be volunteering for the 36th. Then there's the youngest of us, Brutus Cato, who Amadeus has brought into training on a couple of occasions despite only being eight years old. He's already massive for his age, a powerhouse like his father, who is the greatest of us.

But for whatever reason, there are five of us here now. We didn't let the boy from Four in this year; a weak, gangly fifteen-year-old, who, as with the volunteering traditions of District 4, was left to fight for himself in the Games. Having only scored a five, we've left him to his own devices in the arena. I'm amazed that he's still alive.

As for the rest of my group, we try to live up to the stereotype as much as possible while we struggle through the Games.

We are strong.

We are powerful.

We are brutal.

We are unforgiving.

We show no mercy.

We are the Careers, and we kill people.

* * *

**The arena for the 34th Games was different, as it was a maze. But this made had a twist. There was no cornucopia; all the tributes were given a week's supply of food and water before entering the arena, and there was a random weapon waiting for them by their pedestal for once the Games begun. As for the maze itself, everything in every direction was white; white floors, white sky, white extending seemingly to infinity in every direction. The tributes could all see each other, but not the clear walls of the maze as the Games began. Progress was slow for the first three days as the Careers slowly managed to meet up with each other. By day ten, fourteen tributes were dead, most of which had died of stravation. The only tributes who had survived had done so by taking food and water from the dead tributes.**

**The numbers were significantly reduced when the four remaining Careers found invisible stairs, adding the issue of altitude to the Games. There were some parts of the maze, they found that were roofless, and their advantage allowed the numbers to be whittled down to five by firing down arrows from above. Then the numbers were reduced even further when the Careers, who were becoming more arrogant with every kill, seemed to forget the fact that the invisible floors that they were walking on were actually _invisible. _Three of them fell to their deaths over four floors, and the fourth, Iris Stephenson, was severely injured. But the final tribute other than her was a young girl from District 6, who had only survived thus far due to scavenging supplis from other tributes that she had found dead.**

**The girl had no experience with the weapon she had been given (a crossbow) and Iris, who had the choice of any of the weapons of the dead Careers, easily defeated her with a sword on the fifteenth day of the Games.**

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**A/N: If you liked this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed!**

**I got a record seven reviews for the last chapter. Can we go one better? :)**

**GM97 :)**


	35. Self vs Self

**A/N: Apologies for a mistake yesterday concerning the tribute, Iris Stephenson. She was from District 2, not 4. I've since gone back and edited the chapter.**

**On a more positive note, thanks to Mrs. KiliMellark, richards25, RandomTeddyBear, charliesunshine, Burningbrightforyou, mangesboy01 and My Haunting Melody for reviewing!**

**The arena for this chapter was suggested by an anonymous guest reviewer, but if they are reading this, then I hope they like it.**

**Here's another Career for you. I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"If I struggle a lifetime, what would my body be?**

**An empty shell on what a demon fed.**

**Could be a heavy burden to stay true to your words**

**Speak up, I want to silence everything!"**

**- Anders Friden, 2010.**

* * *

**The 35th Annual Hunger Games**

**Gloria Blair (18), District 2 Female**

**Pendulum feat. In Flames- Self vs. Self (2010)**

* * *

I don't think I've ever been so unsure of myself before.

My whole life has been planned out. In retrospect, my parents might have been a bit more than pushy in getting me to sign up to District 2's Training Centre, where young wannabe-Careers are given their chance to learn. Seven hard years of work, from eleven until eighteen. Around twenty boys and girls in each year. Only the best ever get to compete in the Games.

My dominating parents had my elder sister and I train for the Games. We never wanted a part in it; neither of us were physical wonders, and I wouldn't bet on intelligence saving us either. I may be smarter than my sister, but I'm no genius. Even though they knew we wouldn't be likely to survive, we were pressured into it. They just wanted the glory and respect that would come with being the parents of a victor. I can't say that we get on. I don't think anyone so selfish could ever expect respect, especially when it costs me and my sister pain.

But I tried hard; there's no backing out of the Training Centre, you're in it for life. Literally.

Of course, when you get to eighteen, the best eligible trainee will step forward to volunteer for the Games at the reaping. How they choose this volunteer, I don't agree with. To give their tributes a good shot at the real Games, District 2 holds a mock Games, just as the other Career Districts do. Trials to decide who the greatest of us is. All the eighteen-year-olds are forced into the arena (which is a separate part of the Training Centre that none of the trainees ever see until their trials. And it's not just for show, either. The weapons are real, and each year, only one boy and one girl comes out of the arena alive, having earned the right to fight for their District in the Games. Every volunteer that District 2 has ever sent to the Games is already a murderer by the time that they arrive on the stage at the reaping.

I was certain how my teenage years would be spent. Training hard, preparing for the time when, in late May, six weeks before the reaping, I would have to fight for my life to earn a spot in the Hunger Games. Not much of a prize, I know, but all of us knew what we were getting ourselves into when we signed on at the Training Centre.

When I came to my trials eight weeks ago, I had it easy. There were only sixteen girls in my year; already the amount of competition was to my advantage. Five or six less than most years. Even so, the trials were the most traumatic four days of my life.

Ever since we first entered the Training Centre, the few deluded trainers who still cling on to the idea that becoming a victor brings eternal glory have been trying to indoctrinate us with their views. I have to admit, some of me believed them. I could understand the thrill of a fight, the triumph of a kill. But in the trials, where I was faced with fifteen other girls of my own age, all of whom I knew, my mind began to question my ideals. I had always resented my parents for forcing me to train, but I never quite understand how much I was going to suffer.

I was fine for the first two days; I avoided anyone that I knew that I was too friendly with to kill them. Eventually, I settled on my first victim - a girl that I had never really spoken to in years - and managed to kill her with a mace. But instead of the promised sense of triumph, I felt only emptiness tinged with disgust at myself for what I had done.

And I realised that all the trainers were wrong. There was no glory in killing another person. But by them it was too late; I had commited my life to getting through the Games. And so I continued my path of destruction in the trials, regrettably killing six before being let out, confirming my place as the volunteer for District 2 in the 35th Annual Hunger Games. I still hate what I have done, though. I see the faces of my victims in my nightmares every night. I'm not like other Careers. I genuinely care. I was never mean to be here.

But now I am in the Games, and I am a tribute of the Career Alliance, of which five remain. I have to get rid of the other four if I want to survive, but for all my training, I never want to kill again.

"Tribute!"

The voice is that of my district partner, Dorian. Six foot one, strong as an ox, holding a spear over his shoulder, a stereotypical Career. He's pointing down the row of abandoned shops to a small boy who looks nervously in our direction before attempting to sprint away.

The arena; a large abandoned shopping centre, is probably one of the smaller arenas seen in recent Games. Half a mile across, no more. But the six storeys of shops connected by stairs, unpredictable escalators and lifts make it a real pain to find others. There are so many places for tributes to hide. In a way, I'm glad. It stops me form having to kill anyone else. I really don't want to relive that again. I know that eventually I will have to if I want to survive, but the longer that I can afford to leave it, the better.

"Parkes! Blair! After him!" Orders the boy from District 1, whose name is Justin. I know he doesn't like me, so I'm not surprised that he wants me to do all the work for him. Just because I laughed at his name. I was expecting it to be something stupid, like Sparkle or Gloss, you know, what's they're all called. I think I insulted him because I was surprised he is so... normal. Most District 1 tributes are good-looking, strong and, most of all, arrogant. But Justin is alright. I think I offended him by judging him by the stereotype.

I realise that I've paused for a moment, and Adrian Parkes of District 4 is shouting at me to keep up. I set off, sprinting after him in chase of the young boy.

_Please don't make me be the one who has to kill him._

He must die, of course. I just don't want to have to cause him any harm. I've already done enough killing so far in my life. I haven't even struck out at anyone since the Games began. I had the skills to get me an eight in training and book me a place in the Career Alliance, but since I have joined, I've done nothing useful.

Now that we have gained on the boy, I can see that he is only thirteen or fourteen, and I vaguely recognise him as being from District 7. He's sprinting up a set of escalators, hoping to evade us on the floor above. s soon as he reaches the top of the escalators, the Gamemakers change its direction, turning it into a down escalator, not only slowing our progress but causing me to trip after losing my balance due to the sudden change in the movement of the steps beneath my feet. My head smashes against the metal steps hard. I have to focus to get past the pain in my chin, but I know that there won't have been any permanent damage.

Belatedly reaching the top of the escalators, Adrian Parkes sports the boy forty yards from us, and has his spear poised in his arm, ready to throw. As he launches the projectile, I watch it fly through the air and land in the young boy's back, just below his shoulder blades. The wound will not be fatal, but it is enough to send him to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain.

We've on him within a moment. He's bleeding, but not badly enough for it to be fatal, despite how much I wanted it to be. I just hope that I won't have to finish the boy off. I want anything but to kill again. Looking at the boy from two metres away, he looks even younger than I had previously presumed. He might even be twelve.

_This isn't right. Twelve years isn't a life. We don't have to do this._

But we _do_ have to kill him. If we want to escape the arena, at least.

Adrian stares down at the boy intently for a moment before backing away from the boy, who is clearly going nowhere with his injuries, picking up his spear as the other Careers arrive, led by Dorian. I turn to find the other Careers all looking at me expectantly, Justin holding out a dagger towards me.

"You finish him," says Justin demandingly. "You've been a dead weight all week. It's time you did something useful."

_No. I won't do it._

"Alright," I say, snatching his dagger. I know that this is wrong, but I have no choice. If I disobey Justin and the others, I'll have severed the strings attaching me to their alliance. And the Careers aren't known for letting their opponents get away lightly.

_I can't do it. Remember what happened to Rose. And Maria. And Rowan. I swore to myself that I wouldn't kill again._

But this is the Hunger Games. It's kill or be killed I have no choice.

_But would I rather die with dignity now or in forty years as a murderer?_

It's too late for me now. I'm already a killer. And this is a matter of survival.

I look down at the crying boy beneath me. Maybe it would be kinder to put him out of his misery than let his suffering continue.

_Yes. This is a mercy killing. I'm actually doing this poor boy a favour._

I kneel down beside the boy, turning the dagger over and over in my hands for a few seconds before slashing it through the boy's throat.

* * *

**The Games were relatively short. The arena was slowly shrunk down in size as many shops in the lower floors had their shutters closed, leaving only open corridors with no protection on the lower floors. By the time that the Career Alliance had disbanded and there were only five tributes left alive, only the highest floor, floor six, was accessible to the tributes. Aside from the shops, there were four corridors extending outwards at right angles from the central atrium, which was a glass-roofed circular opening that housed the escalators, with a view down to the bottom floor. A perimeter corridor that connected the four that extended outwards from the atrium was the only other passageway in the arena, and when the outer shops finally close their shutters, the three remaining tributes (Justin, Gloria and the boy from District 10) were forced into sight of each other.**

**Charging into combat at the atrium, the boy from Ten was killed almost immediately by Justin, who threw a spear into his neck that Justin had stolen from Adrian's dead body. Left to fight Gloria, who was armed with the dagger that Justin had previously given her, Justin retrieved his spear from the boy from District 10's body, but his second throw was poor, and the spear flew past Gloria and fell through the circular opening in the atrium, clattering down the escalators to floor five. Unarmed, Justin only had one choice; charge at her.**

**And that he did.**

**However, Gloria was a match for him, dodging Justin's run so that he ran straight into the waist-height barriers that prevented tributes from falling all the way to floor one. But Gloria knew what she needed to do.**

**Before Justin could turn round to confront her (he was struggling to keep his balance; his momentum had almost taken him over the edge), she'd pushed her dagger between his shoulder blades and sent the boy from District 1 tumbling to his death, making Gloria Blair the victor of the 36th Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: Nearly half way though the series of oneshots now!**

**If you've enjoyed this chapter, please review! Need I remind you that I welcome constructive criticism? :)**


	36. Firestarter

**A/N: Who needs revision when there's fanfiction to write?**

**Sadly, I do, and so I apologise for my lack of posting in the last week. There's just so much on at school with my final exams being only three weeks away. English Literature, French, History, Music, Biology, Religious Studies, Chemistry, Further Mathematics, Physics...**

**Too much to do, I swear.**

**But anyway, I'm on top of things at the moment, and so there will be a couple of chapters this weekend.**

**Also, thanks to richards25, Burningbrightforyou, FScSeG0403 and Vykktor for reviewing since the last update.**

**Here's a classic cornucopia scene to get back into the swing of things, I hope you enjoy it :)**

**"I'm the self-inflicted mind detonator**

**I'm the one-infected, twisted animator**

**I'm the firestarter, twisted firestarter."**

**- Keith Flint, 1996.**

* * *

**The 36th Annual Hunger Games**

**Fernando James (16), District 10 Male**

**The Prodigy- Firestarter (1996)**

* * *

Ten.

_All I see is grassland._

Nine.

_Rolling hills behind me, a sparse forest half a mile north. No doubt there will be water amongst the long grass somewhere._

Eight.

_Twenty-four tributes._

Seven.

_Only one will survive._

Six.

_I don't know who I'm fooling other than myself by keeping up hope. I only scored a three in training._

Five.

_Compare that to the Careers and, well, there really isn't any point trying. One of them, the girl from Two, the daughter of a Victor, scored an eleven. There's no way that I can hope to compete with that._

Four.

_But for once, some of us from the outer districts have agreed not to kill each other until the Careers are dead. Not allies as such, but for the time being, on the same side. A non-aggression pact, of sorts. Districts 7 to 12 united against the Careers. Supposedly._

Three.

_Of course, we will eventually have to fight each other. It's either that or die._

Two.

_The grass has been cut shorter around the cornucopia to allow easier access. There's no question of beating the Careers to the supplies. If I want weapons and supplies, I'll have to take them from the environment that the Gamemakers have thrown us into._

One.

_A glance to my left and to my right tells me that no Careers are on pedestals near me. I'm relatively safe. For now._

The gong sounds, and the 36th Annual Hunger Games explode into life. At first, I'm unsure of where to go, and watch as the boy from District 7 sprints past me into the long grass to the west, safe in the knowledge that currently he is not a threat. Unsure of where to go, I think that the best I can do is find somewhere safe to stay until the carnage of the cornucopia bloodbath is over. I quickly dash to the long grass, take about ten paces and throw myself down in the grass, out of sight of the other tributes. The chances of them stumbling across me here are next to none.

Suddenly, the first screams of the bloodbath are all around me. The Careers must have reached the supplies. I knew it was going to be bad, but with only the sounds of the fight, the wait for it to die down is torturous. I have no idea what is going on. I have no idea who is alive or dead. All I know is that someone out there is murdering other innocent children.

I don't want to be a part of this anymore. I don't want to have to listen to their suffering. I clasp my hands over my ears and bury my head into the dirt, trying to isolate myself form the horrors all around me.

Then I hear it. Weak, pleading, desperate. But it is there.

"Fernando!"

It's my district partner. I'm certain of it. I've grown used to her voice over the last week. I remember telling her that she mustn't run to the cornucopia. She promised me that she wouldn't. But I had promised her that I would protect her in the arena. Not just as long as the Careers survived, as then as anyone other than us two survived. If we became the last two, then I would have to fight for the chance to go home. But that scenario would never happen.

There it is again. Fainter, but I still heard it. She may be in trouble, but I can say now that I'm not going in there. Two of us can break promises.

I hear my name again, but then the voice is replaced with screams that soon subside into nothingness. By now, the bloodbath must be nearly over. There are no new cries of pain, only the whimper of dying tributes, and the abrupt end that I presume to be one of the Careers returning to finish them off. Slowly it all fades to silence. I have no idea how many died, as I can't see the bodies of the dead lying in the grass. Six or eight, I would guess. Not many less than that.

Suddenly the crash of the first cannon reverberates around the arena. I lay silent in the grass, counting. One... Two... All the way up to nine.

Nine of us are gone already. Hopefully tributes from Three, Five and Six, who didn't join our little non-aggression scheme. Maybe even one of the Careers, that would be nice. But then, in the calm after the fight, I become aware of voices. The Careers. Still at the cornucopia, the windless conditions letting me pick up their voices fifty metres away. Unlike the rest of us, the Careers aren't afraid to talk loudly and carelessly; they know that no-one would dare try and hunt them down. Such a fight would only ever end one way.

"Did we all make it through?" asks a boy, who I believe to be from District 4.

"Yeah, although the boy from Seven slashed at me with a knife. I've got a nasty gash on my thigh that needs looking at."

"Don't worry," says another, this one a girl. "There's always a first aid kit in the cornucopia supplies. And if not, there's always sponsors."

"Who did we kill then?" asks yet another.

"I got both from Twelve," says the girl who spoke earlier.

_Damn. There's two gone from our group._

"I'm sure I saw both the boy from Five and the girl from Ten bleeding out," says a different girl. Her careful accent reminds me of District 1.

So that confirms my fears for my district partner. She's gone already.

_So much for keeping our promises for each other._

"I think the boy from Eight is gone too, but I'm not sure. Anyway, we need to gather supplies and move out. We've got tributes to hunt," says another male, trying to take control of the situation.

And suddenly I realise flaw in my plan. If the Careers walk my way, I've got nowhere to go to. I'll be dead in under two minutes. And I can't run now. Running would only draw attention to myself.

I then hear the Careers gasp in awe at their supplies, which only made me feel even more on edge. The next twenty minutes could be my last.

"Wow, look at all this!"

"The Gamemakers have been very generous this year!"

"Hey, Marcus! Check out these two swords!"

"Is there anything for my arm?"

"Oh, who cares? Look at all this!"

"I'll check round the back; there's so much!"

"What's this? Oh my g-"

The sky flashes white and my ears feel as though they have been shattered in an instant. I can faintly hear echoes of a sound like a thundercrack rumbling back from the hills in the south as the light from the summer sun is blocked off almost completely. Trying to stand to my feet having been disoriented by the sudden noise, I turn to the see the land where the cornucopia had stood, but there is nothing.

In front of me is a massive crater, twenty feet deep, spreading out from where the cornucopia had stood, only stopping just before the pedestals. Smoke is being belched into the sky at an alarming rate, fire spreading through the grass all around me. Through my damaged ears, I hear five cannons fire in sequence, just as they had done at the end of the bloodbath. Through the smoke I can make out the charred remains of wooden supply crates, melted plastic that appears to be the source of the blackness that descends upon me and melted pools of gold and iron; the remains of the weapons. Then, from the heart of the inferno, a shape appears from the smoke. A tribute, no doubt, engulfed in flames, their charred figure staggering forward towards fresher air. I can't even tell from their disfigured form is the creature in front of me was once male or female; and nor do I care to find out. I turn to run from the scene as the charred figure collapses into the flames, never to rise again.

The sixth cannon quickly follows as I attempt to escape the fumes that were rising from the wreckage, and the burning-hot ash that is starting to fall from the sky. And so I run blindly onwards into the grass, not caring where I am going. All I want to do is be away from there. Golden rain that scorches my skin follows me; the metal of the cornucopia melted at flung skyward by what I can only assume was a colossal explosion that is now coming down to haunt me. Two droplets catch my forearms and I find myself swearing in pain as my skin is scolded by them, and it spurs me on to run even harder for the hills that now loom right overhead.

As I run, my mind returns to the deal that had been struck by the tributes of the outlying districts had made before the Games.

Now the Careers are gone.

I might not have hoped for it to come so soon, but from now on, I am on my own.

* * *

**With fifteen tributes gone in the first hour (including the whole Career pack), the 36th Games were then dragged out by the Gamemakers, making sure that the remaining nine tributes never wanted for anything, especially not weapons. Having anticipated the destruction of the supplies in their explosive trap at the cornucopia, the Gamemakers set up several other weapons stations around the outskirts of the arena, which ensured that the remaining tributes were well supplied for the remainder of the Games.**

**Eventually, the seven tributes who had taken to the woods after the bloodbath all found ways of killing each other off, leaving the boy from District 9 to be the only survivor from the northern half of the arena. In the south, Fernando had eventually been spotted by the girl from District 3, who was the highest-scoring non-Career in that year's Games. In the hills, a drawn-out chase had ensued, winding through narrow ledges that hung over hundred-foot drops. By the end of a long and (in the eyes of the Capitol audience) thrilling chase, Fernando turned back to face his adversary, and the brief fight resulted in the girl from District 3 being thrown off of the ledge to her death.**

**Yet again, fire (which tributes had come to know of as the Gamemakers' best friend) was used to draw the final two together. Luck was the deciding factor in the end, as the unskilled fighting between the boys of Districts 7 and 10 led to both clumsily injuring each other, and the Games was decided by seeing which boy bled to death on the ground first, an unexpected anticlimax to the otherwise thrilling 36th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: I don't know if any of you (the readers) will be interested, but I'm contemplating holding a competition, with the winner being able write one of the oneshots for this story. If anyone thinks this is a good idea or would be interested, then please let me know ASAP.**

**Also, I've gone back and updated the previous chapter, which was (and I apologise) riddled with typing errors, as pointed out by ****FScSeG0403. Feel free to give it a re-read in its improved state if you like.**

******Finally, if you enjoyed the chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is still welcomed :)**

******P.S: I promise I won't go this long without updating again.**


	37. Achilles' Last Stand

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, coaster317, richards25 and dreamzspark for reviewing!**

**As there's been quite a bit of interest as to the competition, it's going ahead. Basically, I give you the victor, and you write a chapter about them, summary included. The best-written and most creative chapter will receive a place in the story. In terms of word count, I don't really care, but at least a thousand if possible. I'm deliberately giving as little detail away as possible about their character to allow everyone as much creative freedom as possible.**

**The Games will be the 51st, and the victor will be a seventeen-year-old boy from District 10 called Toby Denham. He's mentioned by name in the later chapters of my story 'Second Time Unlucky', but I never gave him a speaking part or any physical description. Everything about him, from his appearance to his family to his preferred weapon in the arena is up to you.**

**Lastly, the deadline is when I post the chapter for the 50th Games, so you should have three weeks or so to write this.**

**If you've got any queries, please PM me. I'm willing to explain. Also, I'm receiving chapters by DocX, so PM me if you want to establish a connection to send work through to me.**

**Well, that's it. May the best author win.**

**And on with the story. Yesterday's chapter included one constant in the history of the Hunger Games; the cornucopia bloodbath. Today's chapter focuses on another ever-present part of the Games; the notorious Career Alliance.**

**I will admit, I altered the victor's name to fit the song, but it doesn't detract anything from the story. I hope you enjoy it :)**

**"It was an April morning when they told us we should go**

**As I turn to you, you smiled at me**

**How could we say no?"**

**- Robert Plant, 1976.**

* * *

**The 37th Annual Hunger Games**

**Achilles Floyd (18), District 2 Male**

**Led Zeppelin- Achilles' Last Stand (1976)**

* * *

I finally stop running when I'm certain that Jacob, the boy from District 6, is so far back that he's out of sight. Out in the frozen wasteland he could keep track of me, so I took to the pine forests that line the tundra to evade him.

It was my own unawareness that cost me when he confronted me out in the barren icy wasteland. I had been paying very little attention to the surroundings, and he caught me unawares. I know that I am taller, stronger, faster and more trained than Jacob, but with Jacob suddenly appearing just five yards from me (I really had been that careless), I had no choice to run.

I wasn't scared (okay, maybe at one point I was a little), but I knew that staying to fight wouldn't play to my strengths. I was armed with my bow; a weapon that is too clumsy to use at close range. If I had taken time to draw my dagger from my belt, he would have been upon me before I was ready to strike. My cannon would have already fired. I just needed time and space to prepare myself before confronting Jacob again. I'm no coward, just a tactician.

I lay my equipment down in the snow to conduct a quick situation report. As for food and water, I have no issues. I have enough supplies to last me at least three or four more days. It might not sound like much, but I know that the Games won't last more than two more days. I've lost count of how many nights I've spent in the arena, but I'm certain that it's more than the entirety of the Games in most years. Plus, it's been three days since the last other tribute, the boy from District 1, died, presumably at Jacob's hand. I have no idea how he died, really. The Career Alliance split unusually early this year, so I've no idea of his fate. All I know that he is dead, and that is all that really matters to me.

Then I turn my attention to my key supplies; the things that have kept me alive in the arena. My black sleeping bag, my electric torch and my fleece-lined leather coat, which has been my true saviour in these bitter, icy conditions that we have been flung into.

Looking to the weapons department, I have my favoured weapon, the simple bow and a quiver of ten arrows that I have already used to kill twice during these Games. Of course, as proved in my earlier confrontation, it's useless at close range, and so I have my simple, crude dagger, which currently lies next to my bow in the snow.

Realising that I should probably get a move on with hunting Jacob before the Gamemakers force me to, I cram all my supplies into the orange rucksack that I was given at the corncucopia. It's no suprise that Jacob found me so easily in the tundra. I bet you could see that bag from a mile away. I slip my quiver of arrows over one shoulder and put my bow over the other. I hold my dagger out in my right hand. Here in the dense woodland, a bow would be useless. I know that Jacob favours a sword (he was stunning with them in training) so a dagger probably won't be of much use, but it's better than fighting with my fists.

With the vague idea of heading back towards the tundra to find Jacob, I walk slowly through the woods. And then I see him.

Jacob stands in a clearing, which must be twenty metres wide, where the weak wintry sun shines down softly onto the snowy ground. He holds a bow in his left hand, an arrow loaded. No doubt he took it from my fallen ally, the girl from Four who was one of the best archers I've ever seen. It doesn't surprise me to see his weapon of choice, his sword, sheathed at his side.

He's facing away from me, and no doubt hasn't seen me as I creep up to crouch in the snow-covered undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. The arena is almost perfectly quiet; I know that any sudden movements will give me away. Although he might be able to hear me, I doubt he'll see me, as I'm covered by the shade of the canopy.

This is what I'm good at. Using stealth to hunt down my enemies. Making sure that I'm completely hidden for the silent strike. The assassin. The sniper. That's me. He won't know what's happening until it's too late.

I pull an arrow from my quiver as quietly as I can and prepare it for its final journey into Jacob's skull as I ready the bow. I raise the bow, preparing to shoot the final arrow of the 37th Annual Hunger Games, adding pressure to the bowstring.

"Don't try to hide from me, Floyd," I hear someone murmur, and it takes me a minute to realise that it is Jacob. "I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE!"

In an instant, I drop to the floor as Jacob turns on his heels and fires an arrow mere inches above my head. I've no idea how he knew where I was, but I don't have time to muse over it, either, as when I look up, Jacob has dropped his bow and is advancing upon me with a sword. Instinctively I reach for another arrow, but by the time I remember that it would have been quicker to pull out my dagger from my belt, I've gotten an arrow in my hand. I clumsily ready the arrow and look up to see Jacob just two metres from me, his sword above his head, poised ready to swing.

Shocked, I shoot my arrow at random, and for a moment I'm worried that I've missed but the arrow sinks into Jacob's left thigh just above the knee, and I hear him cry out in pain as he drops his sword and both of his hands go to the arrow in his leg. He staggers twice, giving me time to draw my dagger before thrusting it through his neck, silencing his screams. I let go of the blade as it falls to the ground along with him, still buried in his throat. He quivers once or twice on the floor before falling still.

Then I hear the cannon followed by the fanfare, and the voice of the new Capitol announcer, Claudius Templesmith, and I know that it is all over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victor of the 37th Annual Hunger Games - Achilles Floyd!"

* * *

**A/N: I don't believe this needs a summary, the ending is already there :)**

**If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Need I bother reminding you that I welcome constructive criticism?**

**Also, remember to PM me if you're interested in the competition.**

**P.S. Beetee's Games are next :)**


	38. God Help Them

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, richards25, Burningbrightforyou, charliesunshine and DigbyThompson for reviewing!**

**Here, as promised, is Beetee's Games, I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**P.S. To the best of my GCSE-level physics knowledge, the electrical trap used in this chapter SHOULD work. I'd guess that I'm allowed a little artistic licensing, anyway.**

**"God help them**

**When they find out**

**That's what life is all about."**

**- Ian Broudie, 1990.**

* * *

**The 38th Annual Hunger Games**

**Brian T. 'Beetee' Matthews (18), District 3 Male**

**The Lightning Seeds- God Help Them (1990)**

* * *

It's amazing what I've been able to scavenge in the arena during the last two weeks.

The first thing I found was the length of black electrical cable that was in a backpack I found a few yards from the cornucopia during the bloodbath before I escaped into the swamp-based arena. Due to the water-based nature of the arena, I've kept to the large, low-lying willows and elms that hung to the low areas of land above the waterline to keep out of the way of the tributes of District 4, who quickly dispatched of the other Careers on the second day. Their mobility in the water is second to none. The rest of us would have been fools to pick a fight with them.

And so, just like many others, I've found myself mainly restricted to the trees, through which, if you are deft enough, you can move quite easily as the branches regularly overlap. However, District 4 have hunted most of us down. Now, along with the tributes of District 4, there is only myself and the boy form District 8 left.

The second thing that I found was an electric torch. Not particularly useful, considering that nobody would dare navigate the trees at night, but at least it still worked.

And then I had an idea.

I had been weaponless during that first week, unfortunate not to gain much from my trip to the cornucopia during the bloodbath, where the worst that I suffered was a throwing knife flying over my shoulder, which had been thrown by the boy from District 1. I had, however, received a decent length of electrical wiring from the supplies. With the arena being water-based, maybe I could build some sort of electrical trap? I had plenty of cable to dangle some out of a tree into the water, which would complete a circuit. My only issue was that I had no power.

And then I remembered the torch. I remember quickly pulling the batteries from the torch to find out if they would be of any use. My answer was both a yes and a no. The batteries would cause an electric current to flow into the water, but twelve volts wouldn't be enough to kill anyone. I needed to raise the voltage. I needed a transformer.

Transformers are really useful devices. We've learnt about them at school back home in District 3. They're used in all sorts of chargers, for mobile phones and the like, to reduce voltages from mains electricity to more safe amounts. The Capitol need thousands of the things, and it's our district's job to supply them. But they don't just reduce voltages; they can be used in reverse.

I know how to build one; I've even fixed a few transformers when things have gone wrong in electrical appliances at home. I know I'm one of the smartest of my age at home in District 3. I'm not even fully-qualified yet, and people around the district come to me for help with their electronics when problems occur instead of the professionals. If anyone would be able to build a transformer in the arena, it would be me.

The principle is easy. Two wires wrapped around an iron core. The physics behind it is difficult, but the basic idea is that electricity flowing through the wire generates a magnetic field around the iron core, which induces a current in the output wire. The important bit is knowing that if the input wire, which is coiled around the core, has one turn in it, and the output coil has five turns in the coil, then the voltage of the output would be five times stronger. In my case, that would give me sixty volts. Still not enough. But if I had _fifty _turns in the output coil, then that would give me _six hundred_ volts. Way more than enough to be lethal.

My issue was the fact that I lacked any iron. Never mind a proper manufactured core, I had no iron from which I could construct a core with. I spent four days searching the arena for iron, but there was nothing. Then yesterday I had an idea. If I showed the audience what I was planning on doing, then maybe a sponsor would understand, and pay to parachute in a proper core, like the ones we make at home?

I ended up crafting a makeshift wooden transformer from willow branches (even though I knew it wouldn't work) to show the audience what I was trying to do. I even remember what I had said, covertly asking for supplies.

"If only I had some iron, this would work," I had muttered, but someone must have heard me. Within half an hour, I had the part parachuted to me. As I inspected it, I realised that it must have been manufactured in District 3. There was a good chance that someone I knew back home had made the thing in my hands. May be the pepole of my district had sent it to me? I still don't know, and nor do I care.

All I know is that now I have a working electrical trap, capable of delivering over five hundred volts. And so I sit in the branches of my willow tree, waiting for some poor soul to wander along and feel the power of my homemade weapon. I haven't tried it yet for fear of draining the power from my precious batteries, but I'm certain that-

BANG.

Damn. The arena is down to three. My bets are on the boy from Eight being the latest fatality, and that the tributes of District 4 are still standing. I know that with only three of us left, the Gamemakers will try to force us together. But I'm not going anywhere, and I'm sure that the Gamemakers won't be in a hurry to move me. They will want to see my trap work as much as I do. When the tributes from Four finally find me, it will have to work. Either that, or I'm dead.

And God help those poor souls if and when it works.

* * *

**A/N: If you've liked this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcome!**

**Also, we're halfway through the story! *Jumps for joy* Please let me know what you think of it all so far! Favourite moments, what you thought was creative/interesting, what you didn't like, etc. Everything will help the second half of the story go one better than the first half.**

**Of course, thanks to everyone for your continued support, I can't say how much I appreciate it. I never though I'd be nearing 150 reviews by now when I started this two months ago.**

**I'll try for another chapter tomorrow, I'm really enjoying writing this at the moment :)**


	39. Empire

**A/N: We've passed 150 reviews, so thanks to Vykktor, Violagirl23, Mrs KiliMellark, charliesunshine, mangesboy01 and richards25 for reviewing!**

**Here's something that I've been meaning to do for a while, I hope you enjoy it :)**

**I've been wanting to do this for a few chapters, so I'm going to start showing my lyrical inspirations in these author's notes:**

**"Stop!**

**I said it's happening again!**

**We're all wasting away!**

**We're all wasting away..."**

**- Tom Meighan, 2006.**

* * *

**The 39th Annual Hunger Games**

**Raphael Bryan (18), District 2 Male**

**Kasabian- Empire (2006)**

* * *

"Attention, tributes!"

I'm surprised when I hear Claudius' Templesmith's voice ringing out over the arena and stop what I'm doing instantly. Usually announcers only speak to announce the start of the Games, or who the victor is at the end of them. I've never known there to be an announcement during the Games before.

This year's Games seem to have been distinctly average. No real surprises in the arena, and there was nothing unusual when I reached the cornucopia with my allies. I know that there was still uncertainty in the air as we distributed the supplies, which did seem a little less generous than usual. We all remembered too clearly the explosive fate of the Careers three years ago. I didn't want to end up like Lilac Turner.

After ten days in this arena, which seems to comprise of a rocky river valley, with a open lake by the cornucopia at one end, my supplies are running low, even though I'm a Career. Yes, the alliance broke five days ago, but I had enough food to last me a week then. I wouldn't be surprised if half of the tributes whose deaths we couldn't explain died of either dehydration or starvation. Or the cold. There's very little firewood in this arena. A small amount clinging to the slopes of the valley quite high up, but other than that, there is nothing.

"Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast at the corncuopia," continues Templesmith's voice.

A feast? This is definitely something new. No doubt a ploy used by the new Head Gamemaker to try and drag us together at the cornucopia. A second bloodbath, in effect. I'm not scared for that; I survived the last one, I can do it again. Maybe this time I won't have the help of my former allies, but I scored as high as anyone in training. The only person that I'll need to watch out for will be the girl from District 4, who's developed quite a talent for throwing knives. She's the only tribute this year with any considerable skill with ranged weapons. And of those who prefer to fight in closed quarters, I'm clearly the strongest. My ten in training reflects that as well as anything. Well, that and the five kills that my sword arm has given me so far in the Games.

"We accept that you have been harshly supplied this year, and we wish to be... generous hosts. Good luck, tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

And then he is gone.

Templesmith's words confirm my thoughts about the other tributes who weren't as lucky at the cornucopia on the first day. It seems that everyone is running out of supplies. I can safely predict that all of the seven tributes left alive will be attending Templesmith's feast in the morning.

Realising that I need to be the first to reach the cornucopia I set off walking down the valley towards the lake by the golden horn half a mile away.

* * *

And now we are down to six. On my way to the cornucopia yesterday evening, I ran into one of the three remaining Careers, the boy from District 1, Platinum. Having a dagger as his only weapon (he had the short straw when we were dividing up supplies at the cornucopia), he was no match for me. Add in the fact that I came at him by surprise, and I'm amazed that he even had time to try and fight me off before I finished him.

I hate having to fight. I really do. But it means an escape from poverty if I win, and an end to it all if I lose. That's why I signed up to the Training Centre at home in District 2 five years ago. My thirteen-year-old self never saw why killing was seen as being so bad. I didn't really understand until the trials six weeks ago, when I was fighting for the right to volunteer. Killing isn't something that you would ever want to do. You can make light of it until you actually see someone die. And it's even worse to see someone else die by your hands.

Once was bad enough. Within ten minutes of the trials I was a murderer, but by then, I had no choice but to carry on. I hated it, but every time I found myself in a threatening situation, my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in and I fought through at my enemies expense. I hated it, but I always felt so cold, so detached when killing. It was as though some ruthless, murderous monster buried deep inside me comes out to do my dirty work for me. I never knew I could be so calculating, so efficient, so _brutal_.

But that's what five years at the Training Centre does to you. And I have no choice now but to give myself up to my darker half until these Games are over.

The sun has only just risen in the last ten minutes. The land around the cornucopia is incredibly open. The rocky valley lies to the north, with the boulder-littered landscape continuing to the east. In the south and the west, there is long grass; the perfect place for tributes to hide until this so-called feast happens.

Whenever it is, Templesmith is late to his own event. It's past sunrise and nothing has happened. And then I see action out on the area of hard-packed dirt that surrounds the cornucopia.

A girl, who I believe to be from District 5, walks slowly towards the cornucopia, looking just as confused as I feel. From my vantage point among the boulders to the east, I finally see what we have been waiting for.

It takes her a few moment to notice the circular table that rose from the ground at the mouth of the golden horn that is the cornucopia, laden with supplies and weapons. By the time that she has reached the table, I'm already sprinting onto the dirt around the cornucopia, fifty yards from the table. I see her run away to the north as I close on the table, on freshly-filled rucksack on her back. She's been clever to leave most of the supplies on the table to avoid attention to herself. I have to say, it's worked. My eyes are already on the largest backpack that sits in the middle of the table. I know that I will reach the table first. It's all mine.

When I reach the table, I quickly swipe up the rucksack and throw it on my back. I then grab a dagger (I don't know what I'd use it for, but two weapons are better than one) and sprint off after the girl from Five, who is now my new target. I need to escape the land around the cornucopia just as much as she does, and I might as well grab another kill along the way. She's fleeing to the north, back into the valley. However, as she nears the first row of boulders, a figure steps out in front of her.

I don't know who it is until the girl from Five collapses in front of me, a knife in her chest. Standing ten yards past her is the girl from District 4, who is already preparing another knife. I collapse onto the ground quickly as she throws another knife, which lands behind me. Needing a quick response, I throw the dagger that I still hold in my right hand at her, although she ducks behind a boulder, leaving my dagger to clatter against the rocks as it lands.

I sprint at the boulder whilst she can't see me, and by the time that she peers round at me, I'm only two yards from her. She won't risk throwing a knife now, because if she misses, she's done for. However, the girl's physique is small for a Career, being only about five and a half feet tall. I'm over six inches taller than her and much more physically powerful. She doesn't stand a chance in close combat.

I let the darker side of me take over as I prepare to strike. I now that I'm losing control to my instincts again, but I don't care. This girl is a threat, and she must be silenced. I raise my sword above my head and bring it down upon her skull with both hands. Her skulls splits and half and the girl collapses instantly, never to rise again.

I sprint on past her, not stopping to consider my actions. Regret will come later. I hear two cannons fire in quick succession, which I assume signify the deaths of the girls from Districts 4 and 5, but I don't turn around to check.

I just need to get out of there.

* * *

**In the half an hour that violence continued at the feast, there were four casualties. Both tributes, of District 5, the girl from Four and the boy from Nine. That left Raphael and the boy form District 11 to be the final two. The Gamemakers gave them another day before the Gamemakers forced the boy from Eleven from the long grass by flooding the lower half of the arena, meaning that neither tribute had anywhere left to hide in the arena. When they confronted each other on the twelfth day of the Games, both tributes were well-fed and evenly armed, as both carried longswords. In the end, the difference between them was the physical presence and skill wielding a sword that Raphael showed that allowed him to better his opponent in what the Capitol audience agreed to be a fair fight.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**For anyone who follows my other stories, I'm finally starting to write again for 'Mentor', and I'm hoping to get a chapter out in the next week. I know that the poll on my profile page showed this story to be much more popular than my other stories, but I will continue to write for those of you who enjoyed 'Second Time Unlucky', in the hope that you will also enjoy 'Mentor'.**

**Well, that and the fact that I'm starting to suffer withdrawal symptoms from a lack of Ludovic Robertson :)**

**Anyway, keep an eye open for updates on that story.**


	40. Oblivion

**A/N: Thanks to Violagirl23, richards25, DigbyThompson, MJElliot and charliesunshine for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I think this chapter shows something a little different, but I guess I'll have to see what you, the readers, think.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"You can make the accusations**

**But all the facts are blurry**

**It went wrong in a hurry**

**The world is on fire**

**Oblivion**

**Oblivion."**

**- Colin MacDonald, 2012.**

* * *

**The 40th Annual Hunger Games**

**Sapphire Tompkins (18), District 1 Female**

**The Trews feat. Rich Robinson- Oblivion (2012)**

* * *

I sprint as fast as I can, the sounds of the collapse echoing all around me. The arena, which is relatively small in comparison to other arenas of recent years, is set in a deep ravine, with narrow passages winding halfway up the slopes, with over a hundred feet to the bottom of the abyss if you fall. Into the cliff face there are small, narrow, dark passages that lead to a highly confusing maze of tunnels. I was one of the lucky ones; I got one of the three pairs of night-vision glasses that were in the supplies at the cornucopia. The other two pairs are now lost, as their owner are now dead, giving me a distinct advantage. But it now seems like the Gamemakers want to rule out that advantage but causing cave-ins in all the tunnels, forcing the five remaining tributes back to the ravine for the final showdown.

In amongst the sound of the collapsing tunnel behind me, I have already heard two cannons. I don' know who they belonged to, and I don't care, either. All that matters is that I am alive.

The tunnel that I am running through has its roof collapsing roughly twenty metres behind me, so I know that I have a safe lead over the Gamemakers' device. I pass a side tunnel that connects to my one, and I hear the patter of feet behind me, and the heavy breathing of a tribute who has been running hard for a long time. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that it is the girl from District 4, who is armed only with a knife. She won't be able to do anything with it from ten metres behind me, so I know that I'm safe. For now.

In the distance, among the rumbling echoes of the collapsed tunnels, I think I can faintly make out the sound of another cannon. If so, there's a good chance that me and the girl behind me are the only two tributes left alive in the arena.

We burst out into the sunlight and I'm instantly blinded by the sunlight that filters down from the top of the ravine fifty feet above me. I turn left onto a narrow passageway that is only three feet wide, throwing my night-vision glasses away to allow me better visibility. I don't realise until it is too late that I threw them straight down the ravine. Now there is no way of me getting them back.

I try to maintain a fast pace, but it is difficult to run quickly and keep my balance perfectly. One stumble will be enough to send me over the edge. I try hard not to focus on the colossal drop to my right, but I can't ignore it's presence. I can't remember the last time I have felt under so much pressure. That being said, this literally is a life or death situation.

Despite my best efforts, I can tell that the girl behind me is closing in on me. If I don't turn and fight, I'm an easy target. If I do turn and fight, we're evenly matched. we both scored eights in training, and we are both armed with short length combat knives. At least if I turn round, I stand a chance. I take a moment to compose myself before stopping to turn round and face my pursuer, my knife in hand.

I didn't realise how close the girl was to me. Neither of us have much time to react as I lunge at her chest with my knife, but she somehow has time to grab my wrist and smash my hand against the rocky cliff face that is now on my right, forcing me to reflexively let go of my knife. I watch as it bounces once against the rocky path that we stand on and falls down into the ravine. I already know that I won't be getting that back, either.

Seeing me to be weaponless, my adversary makes her move, lunging at me with her knife. I duck beneath her blade and kick her hard in the shins as she lunges forward, causing her to fall flat on her face on the path, her knife being released from her grip. I kick her hard again as she tries to stand up, this time in the stomach. She rolls backwards reflexively, right over the edge.

It was quite funny watching her try and avoid the drop, and to her credit, she managed it. She's clinging on by her hands, the rest of her body dangling dangerously above the hundred foot drop. I stamp on one of her hands, forcing her to release her grip on the ledge of rock that she clings on to.

There's no way of her getting back up now. She's holding on by one hand. I can tell that she's scared I can see it in her eyes.

I crouch down in front of the terrified girl from District 4, and calmly pick up the knife that she had dropped earlier which lay on the floor next to me. Feeling a mean streak suddenly come over me, I look down at the girl who is desperately trying to cling on, waving the blade in front of her face, whilst trying my hardest to smile sweetly down at her.

"Goodbye, District Four," I say brightly, still smiling, as I plunge my knife down through the girl's hand and she falls into oblivion.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Have I ever mentioned that I welcome constructive criticism?**

**Here's another reminder that I'm holding a competition, in which one of you gets to write a chapter for this story. If any of you are interested, information is in the author's notes for chapter 37 of this story :)**

**P.S. I've finally updated my other story 'Mentor', so if any of you are fans of that story, please head over to it and check it out :)**


	41. She

**A/N: Thanks to Violagirl23, I-am-Cashmere-the-Victor, charliesunshine, mangesboy01, richards25 and dreamzspark for reviwing the last chapter! The support is appreciated.**

**Apologies for the delays in the uploading of this chapter, I've had many, many technical issues. I'm having to attempt to format this on an iPod, so if the formatting is poor, I apologise, and I will edit it as soon as possible. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**"She, she screams in silence**

**A sullen riot penetrating through her mind**

**Waiting for a time to smash the silence with a brick of self control."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1994.**

* * *

**The 41st Annual Hunger Games**

**Marcel Fielding (16), District 9 Male**

**Green Day- She (1994)**

* * *

It's taken me years to slowly piece her back together.

And I thought that I had managed it, piece by painful piece.

She was so young when she lost him. Her father, I mean. As for her mother, well, she never really recovered from the loss. She committed suicide two years later, leaving her child alone in the hostile world of District 9, aged just ten.

Five years in the district's orphanage, where nobody really cares for her has been enough to send her over the edge.

She's losing herself in her misery.

Considering that she's got nothing to fight for, she's done well to survive into the top ten. How much of that is because of me, I don't know. But I felt that I had to try and protect this poor girl after everything that life as thrown at her. Well, that and because I once knew the bright, vibrant young girl that she once was before her life fell apart. Now, just a shell of her former self, I'm amazed that she had the strength to continue the battle in the Games.

But she's done well for herself so far, scoring highly for a tribute from the outlying districts, bagging herself a seven in training. We both did well this year. I equalled the highest score of all the tributes, which was only a nine this year. I guess that the Career pack is slightly less skilled than most years, which can only be a bonus. After all, half of them are already dead.

The arena has played into the hands of the outlying districts this year, in particular those from Districts 9 and 10. For this year, the arena is a giant farm. Nothing too different to the massive wheat farms back home in District 9, but for the fact that large portions of the farm are livestock-based, like those in District 10. Either way, the flat fields extend as far as the eye can see. One thing I do know about this year's Games is that only complete idiots will die of starvation. There must be enough food on this farm to feed a thousand tributes. There are no real natural threats, either; the weather is like that of September, in the middle of harvest season. Not hot, not cold, but pleasant. There are no natural predators or mutts, no obvious traps, nothing. Everything about this arena seems to be designed to give the tributes an easy ride.

In fact, I'm so confident of my abilities to survive in this arena that I'm beginning to dream of something that I never dared to think of before; winning the Hunger Games.

I know that either Maria or myself will be able to do it. The Careers have less of an advantage this year, we will be able to survive without having to steal supplies from others, we are high-scoring and well-supplied. Between us, we have a bow and three arrows, a small dagger and an ice pick. I'm not entirely sure what use the ice pick will be in a confrontation, but I'm sure that it has its uses. As for other supplies, we have sleeping bags and waterproof costs to keep us warm in the nights, even though it hasn't rained yet in the first six days of the Games. As for food and water, there is such an abundance all around us that we don't need to be concerned about starvation. Neither of us will succumb to such issues.

Maybe one of us can make it home, and if one of us can, then I'm certain to try and make sure that it's Maria. I don't know why, but the tragic tale of her life has led me to pity her, to the point that I believe that she deserves to win the Games more than I do. At the reaping, all the tributes were marked down for death. If any of us deserve a second chance at life, it should be her.

I understand that this is the Hunger Games and that not everything will go as planned, but I will try. If one of us can get out, then I want to make sure that it is her.

Maybe then I won't be remembered for the brutal murder of the boy from District 7 that I committed on the first day of the Games.

Maybe then I'll be remembered as the selfless, courageous, _heroic_ boy who put the needs of his district partner before the needs of himself.

* * *

**The 41st Games felt both drawn out and quick, due to the fact that the Games only lasted eleven days, but there was remarkably little action. All confrontations between tributes were quick affairs; there were no long battles that the Capitol audience had grown used to in recent years. The only long battle of the Games came in the final confrontation, when the two surviving Careers, the boy from District 1 and the girl from District 4, ambushed the tributes of District 9 in the wheatfields. The girl from District 9, Maria, was quickly and coldly killed by the boy from One, resulting in Marcel striking out brutally at the Careers, seeking revenge for his fallen district partner. The two Careers were slaughtered mercilessly by Marcel, who used the ice pick to hack through his enemies, leaving him to become the victor of the 41st Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: I've written this chapter in a bit of a hurry, so please review to let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**P.S. There's been six reviews for both of the last two chapters. Can we go one better this time and break the record? :) **


	42. Vlad the Impaler

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, charliesunshine, richards25 and Violagirl23 for reviewing the last chapter :)**

**Here's some good news for you; my technical issues are gone! :D**

**Anyway, onto today's chapter. I've tried something a little different with this one, so I hope you enjoy it :)**

**"All my friends are as sharp as razors**

**Cut you down as you touch the faders**

**Listen up all you masqueraders**

**Now we have got the floor"**

**- Tom Meighan, 2009.**

* * *

**The 42nd Annual Hunger Games**

**Indiana James (17), District 10 Female**

**Kasabian- Vlad the Impaler (2009)**

* * *

I can hear the cries echoing through the woods. The screams as a tribute yells out in pain. The metallic clang as blade touches blade. Furious cursing and fumbling footsteps.

"Damn you, Lazarus!" I hear a boy cry, much closer than before. I can tell from his accent that it is the boy from District 1.

"Clara! Where are you?" shouts Lazarus worriedly, who I know to be the boy from District 2. Whoever Clara is, she replies flippantly.

"I'm just behind you, you fool!"

"Help me, then!"

"If you haven't noticed, I'm in a spot of bother myself here!" snaps Clara again. "District 4 are-"

Her voice cuts off abruptly as screams fill the air.

Suddenly is see movement in the woods fifty yards down the slope from me. Two tributes moving quickly but almost silently on my right, fully armed. One with a sword, the other with a mace.

_I need to get out of here._

I quickly look around the trees around me to find one that looks easy to climb. Being rather short and nimble, I'm a decent climber. Hopefully I can just hide in the higher branches of a tree until all this violence is over. I spot a decent tree ten yards away and sprint to it and begin climbing, keeping an eye on the action further down the slope.

It seems as though the Career Alliance has completely fallen apart. The boy from District 2, Lazarus, is in the middle of a sword fight with the boy from District 1, and although he appears to be winning (his opponent has a large gash in his left forearm), he is oblivious to the tributes of District 4 who are quickly approaching behind him.

A cannon sounds just as the District 4 tributes get within striking range (I presume it was Clara's cannon, who I remember was the girl from District 2), giving Lazarus time to turn to face the tributes from District 4. He manages to duck the first swing that the girl makes with her mace, but his former adversary, the boy from District 1, isn't so lucky. The girl's mace clatters into his skull and he drops to floor almost silent, never to rise again.

Lazarus swings out with his sword as the boy from District 4 attacks with his, but Lazarus is clearly the more skilled fighter. The boy from Four manages to parry the first two blows before being disarmed. Lazarus moves to finish him, but notices the girl form Four approaching from behind, and so instead he turns to run, allowing the tributes of District 4 time to regroup.

It takes me a minute to realise that he's running towards me. I hurry up ever faster into the highest branches of my tree, hoping that the fleeing Career won't be able to spot me high up in the canopy.

Unfortunately for Lazarus, despite all of his skill with weapons, the boy from District 4 is a much faster runner that he is. As Lazarus gets within ten metres of my tree, his new enemy is right on his heels. Sensing him, Lazarus turns to fight him. Anticipating the strike from the boy from Four, Lazarus ducks immediately, but his adversary anticipated his dodge, swinging his sword low into Lazarus's side. He reels backwards, cursing in pain, but despite the large, open gash in his stomach, Lazarus knows that he has no choice but to fight. Battling through the pain, he manages to hold his own for a minute, although he is slowly being forced backwards by the boy from District 4.

He's being backed up towards the bottom of my tree.

_Damn._

Lazarus, who realises that he is fighting a losing battle, musters all of his remaining strength into one more swing of his sword, which makes contact with his opponent's sword. A cannon (presumably that of the boy from District 1) sounds as the blades collide, and Lazarus' blow was struck with such strength that the boy from Four's sword shatters, leaving only the hilt in his hands.

Stunned, he stares at the hilt for just a moment too long, which turns out to be a fatal mistake. It only takes Lazarus another second for him to swing again, severing the boy's neck. The cannon sounds almost immediately as the boy's body falls, and Lazarus staggers forward, finally drained of the energy of the fight, his adrenalin levels eventually gone.

Only now does the girl from District 4 arrive on the scene, still armed with her mace. Lazarus, who has no energy left, drops his sword as he staggers forward, instead reaching for a dagger in his belt as the girl from Four approaches him, ready to strike. She's five metres from him when, in a final display of strength, Lazarus hurls the dagger at her, and luckily for him, it lands in her neck, dropping the girl from District 4 instantly.

I see Lazarus smirk slightly as she falls to the floor before collapsing to the ground himself from exhaustion and blood loss, never to rise again.

* * *

**After the death of the girl from District 1 at the cornucopia on the first day of the Games and the bloody fight in which the other five Careers annihilated themselves on day six, none of the Careers made it into the final six tributes of the Games.**

**In an arena that was set in a woodland valley in which the water levels rose from the central river by ten metres every day, it only took twelve days to force the three surviving tributes into combat. In a three-way battle between the boys from Districts 3 and 9 and Indiana of District 10, the two boys severely injured each other using spears and bows that they picked up at the cornucopia. This left Indiana with an easy victory, finishing off the two boys with her knife, allowing her to claim victory in the 42nd Annual Hunger Games.**

**Here's an interesting piece of trivia concerning the 42nd Games; the last time that the Careers played no part in the finale of the Games, the victor was Fernando James of District 10, cousin of Indiana, in the 36th Games, six years earlier.**

* * *

**A/N: If you liked this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**Here's another reminder about the competition that I'm running. I've already received several chapters, and so I thank anyone who has had the time to send one in. There's still eight more chapters until the deadline, so there's plenty of time to go. If you're after more information, please read the author's notes for chapter 37 of this story, as the rules of the competition are written there. Thanks again to everyone who has already taken part in the competition, and I look forward to more entries :)**

**Also, if any of you are also reading my story 'Mentor', then I think I should let you know that I've updated again in the last couple of days :)**

**P.S. We've got a few famous victors coming up in the next few chapters. Any guesses as to who? :)**


	43. The Fountain

**A/N: Thanks to charliesunshine, mangesboy01 and I-am-Cashmere-the-victor for reviewing the last chapter!**

**This chapter's ended up as a sort of songfic; I hope that you still enjoy it :)**

**P.S. This victor was included in the early chapters of my other story, 'Mentor'.**

**"Watching, waiting, shaping, faking**

**Shocking, pumping, mocking, stopping**

**Falling, stalling, warning, crawling**

**Rejecting, perfecting, marauding, ending."**

**- Steven Wilson, 2010.**

* * *

**The 43rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Georgina 'Georgie' Williamson (18), District 4 Female**

**Pendulum feat. Steven Wilson- The Fountain (2010)**

* * *

_Watching._

The Games have been a constant in my life since the day that I was born. Compulsory watching every summer for all of Panem's districts. I've known the dangers of the arena for as long as I've been able to talk.

_Waiting._

My worst fear as a child was to reaped without any preparation for the arena. To be reaped without training would result in almost certain death. And so I made sure that as soon as I was old enough, I enlisted at District 4's Training Centre.

_Shaping._

Over the last seven years, I've been taken under the wing of one of District 4's older victors, MAgs, who has taught me everything that she knew when she combatted the arena. You see, like me, Mags entered the arena with the mindset of a survivalist, not a mindless killer. Being only five feet seven inches tall, I have nowhere near the physical strength of most victors. Even most of the female victors are nearly six feet tall; anyone else simply isn't up to it physically, unless they have some unbelievably good ability that lets them combat strength, such as high levels of skill with ranged weapons, or the knowledge of how to survive in almost any natural environment.

_Faking._

I can clearly remember the trials at the Training Centre six weeks ago, which I won to earn the right to volunteer for my district. I didn't win through fighting ability or even by my survival skills. I won by deceit. I won by forging dodgy alliances with other tributes and using my temporary allies to my advantage before dispatching them.

_Shocking._

I even allied with my best friend from the Training Centre. She never expected me to turn on her after I allied with her.

_Mocking._

Unlike the trial Games that are held in the other Career districts, the trials in District 4 don't use real weapons, so nobody is seriously injured in the trials. This meant that after "killing off" fellow trainee Careers, I had a perfect opportunity to mock them and gloat, revelling in my successes.

_Pumping._

Since then, in the month before the reaping, all the victors that helped at the Training Centre gave me all the help that I could get. Even though I have always stressed that I wanted to be a survivalist, they insisted that I get to grips more with a few weapons, as the Gamemakers would eventually force me into combat, no matter how evasive I might try to be.

_Stopping._

Once in the Capitol, all my confidence and arrogance that I had amassed in District 4 evaporated when I met my fellow Careers, all of whom were traditional fighter types that I had grown used to seeing during the Games. Suddenly I was intimidated by the large males from One and Two, but I stuck to the plan that Mags had helped me formulate of pretending to go along with the alliance, but ditching them as soon as I entered the arena.

_Falling._

Once I actually entered the arena, which was a large, deserted mansion and the surrounding grounds, I realised that my plan would no longer work. Most of the arena was man-made; my survival skills would be of little use. However, my training score of seven was too low to guarantee me long in the Career Alliance before the other Careers would turn on me, and so I stuck to my plan, abandoning my allies at the corncucopia.

_Stalling._

For the first couple of days in the arena, I managed to lie low in the partially wooded grounds to the south of the large mansion where the remaining four tributes of the Career Pack roamed. I saw my district partner's face in the sky on the second night. I can only assume that his allies turned on him, as they would have done to me.

_Warning._

The Games quickly petered out to a stalemate within a week, as none of the surviving non-Careers dared to venture to the mansion, as the natural supplies were in the grounds and the Careers were content with their cornucopia supplies. So it didn't surprise me when a feast was announced by Claudius Templesmith, which would occur on the morning of the ninth day of the Games, with eleven tributes (including myself and four Careers) left alive. But I knew not to go. Why run to such an event when I had everything that I needed?

_Crawling._

Four died that morning at the feast, including the girl from District 2. Due to the fact that I spotted the boy from Three trying to enter the mansion, I was able to deduce that either the Careers had split or had moved camp. It turned out that the former suggestion was correct, I knew that I had waited long enough. Now it was time for me to make my mark on the Games.

_Rejecting._

On the eleventh morning, I ran into the girl from District 1. Instead of killing her straightaway (which I doubt I would have been able to do), I chose to form a tentative alliance with her and use her to my advantage.

_Perfecting._

The next day, after killing off the boy from District 3, we ran into my new ally's district partner. I took a back seat role as the girl from District 1 calmly dispatched of her district partner before I chose to turn on her with my knife when she least expected it. Maybe I could have waited a little longer before getting rid of her, but I was eager to perfect my skills at unsuspectingly sneaking up on people for the kill. Now there were only three tributes left alive in the arena.

_Marauding._

It was another two days before the girl from District 12 was killed by the boy from Two, on day fourteen of the Games. Heading to the mansion, where I was sure that the boy would be, I ran into him in the large multi-floor entrance foyer at the front of the building, which was lavishly decorated with expensive carpets and furniture, and the walls were adorned with the finest tapestry and paintings. Although I spent a moment admiring the room, my attention was quickly back with my adversary, the boy from District 2. He never knew that I was there until he was dead.

_Ending._

Suddenly I snap out of my memories as the music and the cheers of the Capitol crowd are suddenly overpowered by the sound of the hovercraft that appears above me. I am sitting in the sun on the stone steps near the large fountain that is outside the entrance to the mansion, barely thirty yards from where the limp, bloodied body of the boy from District 2 still lies. But now the ladder from the hovercraft reaches me, and I freeze in place as I grab hold of it and carries me upwards, away from the arena.

I don't have to be a part of this anymore.

The Hunger Games are over, and now I can go home.

* * *

**A/N: What did everyone think of that chapter, then? I know it was a bit different, but hopefully it was different in a good way. If you did enjoy it, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**By the way, I meant for the Games to be set in the grounds of an old 17th-century style mansion or hall, such as Chatsworth House or Hardwick Hall, which are in Derbyshire. I wasn't sure if that came across correctly in the chapter, so I figured that should mention it.**

**Here's some good news; we're getting close to several milestones! We're not far from 25 favourites and follows, 10,000 views and not to far from 200 reviews, so I just thought I'd say a big thank-you to everyone who's stuck with the story so far. I really appreciate you taking the time to read my work :)**

**P.S. If you've read 'Second Time Unlucky' and the related stories in detail, you'll be able to tell me which victor is next :)**


	44. Reject

**A/N: Thanks to MJElliot, richards25, mangesboy01, Violagirl23 and Emipop123 for reviewing! I appreciate the support :)**

**Here's a chapter that I've wanted to write since I first published this story, so I hope you enjoy it.**

**Of course, you should all know this victor from Catching Fire, where he was killed by Peeta in the arena for the Second Quarter Quell.**

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoy today's chapter, which is about the 44th Annual Hunger Games :)**

**"What's the difference between you and me?**

**I do as I want, and you do as you're told**

**So listen up and shut the hell up**

**It's no big deal, and I'll see you in hell."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1997.**

* * *

**The 44th Annual Hunger Games**

**Brutus Severus Cato (18), District 2 Male**

**Green Day- Reject (1997)**

* * *

What's in a name?

A name gives so much away about you in one word. To a person who knows you, of course.

I might be moderately intelligent, reasonably good looking, charismatic, strong and overly determined. But I could also just be described as Brutus. That explains it all so much more simply to anyone who knows me.

Of course, where I'm headed, everyone knows the Hunger Games victors. They don't need to be described. Their name is enough for most people to remember what they are like.

Except for those forgettable victors, of course. In my years at District 2's Training Centre, my father has made sure that I have seen reruns of every single Games at least five times. I know every single way of winning the Games that has ever been attempted, and how to use those tactics to my advantage to come up with my own strategy for any situation. But even after seeing so many Games, some of the forty-three victors seem completely forgettable.

Even now, I couldn't tell you the name of District 12's lone victor. She's a woman in her sixties who's in ill health, but I've no ideas what she's called. She won the year before my father did. I can remember some victors for reasons that aren't due to them. Arturo, for instance, who won the First Quarter Quell. He is only remembered because he won in an important year for the Hunger Games. Few victors stand out for their own merit. Charity. Jon. Topaz. Jared. Melissa. Rose. Satin. Natalie. Timothy. Danielle. Velvet. Blake. Seeder. Lilac. I remember the names, but the people themselves are utterly forgettable. When I leave this arena as victor, everyone will remember my name. And not just because of who my father is, either.

I'm pacing through the arena, which appears to be set in a very large, dingy warehouse. Rows and rows of shelves filled with useless junk (mainly empty cardboard boxes) that only serve to hinder my line of sight. The aisles seem to extend infinitely in every direction. I wonder if I run far enough, whether I'll end up back where I started. I doubt it, as we've been in here for twelve days and I haven't retraced my steps yet.

With only six tributes left, I'm close to realising my dream of becoming a Hunger Games victor. My father Amadeus is one of the most well-known of all victors, and has been accepted as the greatest victor of us all for as long as I have known. He did the unthinkable during his Games; all of the other Careers died during the cornucopia bloodbath. He then went on to wipe out the entire field in less than twenty-four hours, which is still to this day the most impressive solo performance of any tribute in the history of the Hunger Games.

I have no way of equalling him in that sense, but it'd be a nice bonus to hold a record by the end of the Games. Having been keeping a tally during the Games, I know that I currently have twelve kills to my name; both from District 1, my district partner, both from Three, both from District 4, the girl from District 5, The boy from Eight, the girl from 10 and both tributes from District 12. This equals a record; the most kills by a single tribute in the arena. Currently held by Molly Higgins of District 6, beating this record will definitely get me remembered by the people of Panem. I will be judged on my own merit. Remembered for my own achievements.

You might think that it would be great, but having a celebrity parent isn't all that it should be. Yes, I've been travelling to the Capitol with him every year since I turned ten, and I've had the best expertise that I could ever wish for going into the Games, but along with this comes expectation and responsibility. At least I know that everyone will be watching me when I make history. Father is, despite all that he has achieved, still annoyed that when we arrive in the Capitol every summer for the Games that our stay is short-lived. He is Capitol-born himself to a highly powerful family, wrongly accused of treason and exiled to District 2 in the run-up to the rebellion that spawned the Hunger Games that I now compete in. Father volunteered to prove a point to the Capitol; that the Cato family wasn't going to take our injustice lightly. We deserve a place in our home; we even fought for our injustice in the Hunger Games, even though District 2 was on the Capitol's side itself and we are actually a Capitol family.

Maybe with two victors, we can finally show the Capitol and most importantly President Snow (a man who sat alongside my great-grandfather Tobias Cato in the pre-rebellion government under the control of President Shawcross) that we deserve our place back in Capitol society.

But first, I've got a Hunger Games to win.

Five other tributes left, none of them trained.

It's time for me to put on a show.

* * *

**Inside the massive warehouse arena, the tributes from District 7 (who had been allied) were both killed by a Gamemaker trap on day fourteen when two sets of shelves collapsed onto them, crushing both tributes. The noise of the collapse attracted all the tributes to be near each other within the maze of shelves and aisles. With all of the other three tributes in close proximity to him, Brutus (who was armed with a sword) had little difficulty in dispatching all three within the next twenty-four hours to win the 44th Annual Hunger Games.**

**The highlight of the Games had been the opening bloodbath, in which only eight tributes died, and five of them were Careers, all butchered by Brutus,who then gained access to all the supplies at the cornucopia. Most tributes managed to escape the cornucopia whilst the Careers fought among themselves, but a couple of stragglers were finished by Brutus. Every face in the sky on the first night was the face of a tribute that had been killed by the eventual victor, Brutus Cato.**

**Another interesting fact about this Games was that a new record was set; the most kills by a single tribute in one Hunger Games. Previously set at twelve, Brutus Severus Cato raised the record to fifteen kills.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! Hopefully we can get to 185 reviews with this one :)**

**Maybe this one was a little different, but I hope that you liked it. If you enjoyed Brutus' story, there's more about it in his father's oneshot (The 8th Annual Hunger Games), and also in the oneshot 'Family Pride', which set during the 66th Games and attached to my other stories that I have posted on this site. If you haven't read them, then they kinda go over the same points, but it's some extra reading :)**

**Also, writing this chapter has led me to want to ask you, the readers, a question. After looking back over previous chapters myself to gather names for the list of victors midway though this chapter, I'm curious to know this: who is your favourite victor in the story so far?**

**Anyway, I'm sure most of you know who's coming next. It's mentioned in the original books, after all ;)**


	45. Run

**A/N: We've over 25 followers/favourites, so a special thank-you goes out to all who have favourited or followed! Also, thanks to mangesboy01, richards25, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**Most of my exams are now thankfully out the way, so I'm going to have more time for this story from now on :)**

**This victor is one that anyone who has read 'Catching Fire' should know. I hope that you enjoy their chapter :)**

**"Louder, louder**

**And we'll run for our lives**

**I can hardly speak I understand**

** Why you can't raise your voice to say."**

**- Gary Lightbody, 2003.**

* * *

**The 45th Annual Hunger Games**

**Chaff Harris (17), District 11 Male**

**Snow Patrol- Run (2003)**

* * *

I wake slowly, realising disappointedly that nothing has changed in the arena since yesterday.

The air hangs heavy with humidity, the moist earth beneath my feet is giving but not muddy. I feel horrible; my clothes stick to my skin, cold and clammy due to my sweat.

I had expected hardship during the Games, and now I have it.

Still, I know that if the weather is the worst that I have to face, I will have been lucky. We're at the intermediate stage in the Games when the action has cooled down, but the Capitol audience are yet to become bored with proceedings. We've had somewhere between eight and ten days within the arena, and there are only eight of us left alive.

The arena itself is something completely new. All twenty-four tributes started at the top of a large hole in the ground, with little options but to abseil down towards the cornucopia, which lay at the bottom of the hole. From the cornucopia, the arena opened out into an absolutely vast underground system of large, open caves and caverns. The caves are so large that whole forests have grown inside them. Food and water won't be an issue in this arena, but this year's Games offer different challenges.

First, there is the issue of light. During the night, there is next to no light; you'd be lucky to see twelve feet in front of you. Nobody can move around the arena during the night. In the daytime, the caves and caverns are dimly lit but various small cracks and holes in the top of the caves. The light might not be much, but it's enough to see what you're doing.

Then there's the humidity; almost unbearable at times, the humidity prevents long periods of exercise. There's no way of running from a fight, and any fight are almost guaranteed to be short-lived, with a victorious tribute quickly emerging as a winner.

Of the tributes who are left, I'm only worried about a couple. The two remaining Careers from Districts 1 and 2 are the only surviving tributes that matched my training scores. Of the others, I don't see too many threats.

Many of the stronger tributes died early in the Games. Three tributes that I considered to be major threats (the boys from One and Four, plus the girl from District 7) died in the cornucopia bloodbath along with six others, including my district partner.

We had agreed to ally with each other ever since the reaping, and I still feel the gut when I remember her death; the moment that the boy from Five cut her down. I had hoped to avenge her loss (both for my own peace of mind and to punish her murderer) by killing the boy from Five myself, but the Careers beat me to him.

That particular battle took place close to me. I could hear the frantic cries for help, the sound of blade against blade, the screams for help. The boy died, of course, but not before taking a Career down with him. That night, there was a second face in the sky; the face of the girl from District 2. A fourth Career died two days ago, to take our numbers down to eight. Two Careers. Two from District 3. The girls from Six and Eight. The boy from Twelve and myself.

I stand up beneath the tree that I slept by last night, brushing myself down before beginning the now-routine trek to the nearest water source. I know that with every day and every death, I get closer to winning the Games. I never thought that it would be possible, but now, for the first time, I believe that I actually stand a chance. I might become a victor.

And I will do it. For her.

* * *

**The Games ended on the eleventh day, when the remaining seven tributes were flushed out of the lower caves and up towards the cornucopia when the Gamemakers flooded the lower caverns. Only three tributes survived the floods; two Careers and Chaff. The first two to arrive at the cornucopia, the girl from One and the boy from District 2, had already settled their differences by the time that Chaff arrived on the scene, with the boy from District 2 being the victor.**

**Attempting to escape him, Chaff tried to climb one of the ropes that led to the surface that had been used to abseil in on the first day. His adversary, in an attempt to stop Chaff escaping him, climbed up the rope next to him, and tried to pull Chaff off of the ropes. However, he also lost his balance when doing so, and both tributes plummeted forty feet onto the uneven, rocky ground around the cornucopia. Both tributes suffered critical injuries, but Chaff was the only tribute to survive them, making him the victor of the 45th Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :) Can we get to 190 reviews with this one? :)**

**I'd also like to thank everyone who's taken the time to enter my competition; I'm honoured by the amount of interest, and I love reading the chapters that are sent to me. Please, keep sending them in!**


	46. Just A Day

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, richards25, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor, charliesunshine, lucylovesbooks and nevergone4ever for reviewing!**

**This chapter is about another victor from 'Catching Fire', although the amount of description about him is minimal, at best. So this is my interpretation of Blight. I doubt it'll please everyone, but as ever, I hope that you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"I've got to rise above the emotional flood**

**I've got to cut these ropes around my hands**

**Pull myself around."**

**- Grant Nicholas, 2001.**

* * *

**The 46th Annual Hunger Games**

**Blight Gunn (18), District 7 Male**

**Feeder- Just A Day (2001)**

* * *

"Oh, how sweet," taunts the girl from District 1, Aurelia. "You thought you could help her, didn't you?"

Aurelia pauses for a moment, as though she's waiting for me to say something, but her penetrating eyes never leave my face when I don't respond. Behind her, I can see Hazel bleeding out on the floor, no longer the centre of Aurelia's attention. The Career's dagger is still buried in my district partner's chest.

It all happened so quickly. Either we were careless, or she has godly levels of stealth. In an open arena such as this one (which is set predominantly in a flat, dusty desert), I'd guess the former is the source of our predicament, but ultimately the cause does not matter. Only the result matters, and I would bet heavily that the result will be the untimely death of both myself and my district partner, Hazel.

I'm completely trapped. Pinned against a large boulder by Aurelia, who holds a second dagger in her free hand, I have virtually no chance of escape. My only weapon, some form of hatchet that I found in the desert, is tucked into my belt and thus out of my reach. Any attempt to reach it will undoubtedly result in my imminent death.

I suddenly come back to my senses as Aurelia hits me hard across the face, clearly enraged.

"You should be showing me some respect like the superior human that I am!" she snaps, showing me all the foolish arrogance that I have grown to expect from the Careers.

"Does it really matter what I do now?" I say, daring to stand up to her. "Let's face it; I'm dead either way, and things can't get any worse for Hazel."

As I mention my district partner, I suddenly become aware that she has stopped crying. I fear the worst, and it doesn't take long for my thoughts to be confirmed as cannon-fire rolls out across the arena.

"It looks like it's already too late for her," jeers Aurelia, pressing her dagger lightly into my throat.

I know that the end is almost here. I don't have long before she'll either get bored or angry. Or maybe both. Still, I feel the need for a somewhat witty reply, so I shrug before answering my murderer.

"It doesn't bother me that she's dead," I say. "I'm sure it's better for her this way."

I can tell from the way that Aurelia frowns that I have succeeded in irritating her. I can feel an increase in pressure from the dagger's blade against my neck. Just enough for me to feel pain; just enough to draw blood. The end is coming.

"Maybe you'll enjoy being reunited with her," grins Aurelia, staring straight into my eyes.

For what feels like half a minute, we stand motionless, staring straight at each other, as though some sort of mental deadlock has been reached. I could attempt to escape her now, but I don't. I'm ready to accept my fate.

Then suddenly there is a brilliant flash, searing heat and then nothing.

* * *

**The Gamemakers had surpassed themselves during the 46th Games, with an arena based on a recreation of an important archaeological site near District 5, in a place that was once known as New Mexico. The arena was based on what was believed to have been a scientific research centre, where links to warfare had been found by Capitol historians and archaeologists. So the Gamemakers produced a recreation of a nuclear testing facility, complete with buildings full of priceless scientific equipment and a control room. For the first time, the tributes had control of the traps themselves. After one tribute, the boy from District 6, became careless in the control room, the full potential of the nuclear facility was realised as a runaway nuclear reaction was triggered, vaporising the facility. Only four tributes were far enough away from the blast to not be instantly incinerated, and all four suffered severely from radiation poisoning before only one, District 7's Blight, was left standing. **

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**A/N:That was rather dark... But anyway, what did you think of both Blight and the arena? I'm curious to see your opinions!**

**I'd just like to take the opportunity to thank everyone for a record number of reviews for the last chapter; eight. That's just amazing. So can we match it and get to 200 with this chapter? :)**

**P.S. If you're ever needing some other fanfics to read, may I recommend 'Riley's Choice' by mangesboy01? I've found it both gripping and interesting in the early chapters. I just thought I'd give it a mention :) **


	47. Perfect

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**I've got a relatively free week ahead of me, so for a few days I'm aiming to update this story daily. I hope that you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"See the rivers filled with rain**

**I wish it could be blue again."**

**- Ian Broudie, 1994.**

* * *

**The 47th Annual Hunger Games**

**Ellis Rutherford (18), District 6 Male**

**The Lightning Seeds- Perfect (1994)**

* * *

I can still remember my home. District 6.

I never thought of it as much. The forgotten district of Panem. No real industry, just transport. That's what we specialise in.

As a young child, I may have complained about my poor district, but as a young adult I realise that it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

I spent too many days in my youth loitering around the back of the train sheds by the large station with my so-called friends. I could have been out in the nicer half of the district, in the fields near the district boundary. But I did nothing to enjoy my childhood. I wasted it.

In hindsight, I was a foolish child. I wasted my younger years, when I was free of responsibility, free of cause for concern. As an adult, I have to worry about a job, and having to earn to support a family. And as a teenager, I have to worry about the Hunger Games.

Most boys at school told me not to worry about the Games, and so I didn't. I did nothing to help prepare myself for the arena. Suddenly it is too late, and now the only thing that I can do well is worry.

I won't be able to escape the arena by cowering away. Sooner or later, I will have to confront my fears.

I suppose it helps that I'm not scared of dying. Death doesn't bother me at all; I have little to return to in District 6. I don't want to sound like I'm giving up (I'm sure that when the time comes, I'll fight for my life), but I'm sure that most of the tributes in the arena with me (and there are still another fourteen alive out there) have more determination to return home.

If I could reverse time and try again at my life, I would. I could have had a perfect childhood, but I wasted it. I should have tried harder at school. Hung around with the right kids. I should have cared enough about the future to plan ahead for it.

But I did none of these things, and it feels as though the Games are here to knock some sense into me. It's as though they are a very brutal wake-up call, bringing me back to reality, after coasting towards decline during my teenage years.

I understand that life gives you no second chances. But if I win these Games, I have made a promise to myself to try and make the most of what life I still have ahead of me.

But before that can happen, there are another fourteen tributes stuck on this colossal ship with me. I am deep within the hold, keeping to the shadows on the lowest levels, near the engine rooms, which are so unbelievably hot that no tribute can venture there. Safe with this knowledge, I know that nobody can approach me from behind through the engine rooms. I have enough food down here to last me at least a week without returning above deck to scavenge food, and if anyone comes for me, I'll be ready for them.

I know that my only weapon, a spear, isn't perfectly adapted to the close quarters combat that I will surely be experiencing, but I'm hoping to be able to use pre-emotive strikes to take down tributes until I can scavenge a better weapon.

It might not be a very good plan, but at the moment it's all that I've got.

But in comparison to the rest of my wasted youth, this barely-formed plan is everything to me.

* * *

**The 47th Games were set on a large ship, drifting in the ocean, with no land in sight. Being a limited in space, the first eight tributes were whittled down quickly before several tributes found corners to escape to within the depths of the ship. This actually ended up benefitting them, as nearly all of the tributes who continued to hunt around the ship ended up killing each other off.**

**Eventually, after two weeks, only seven tributes remained, and of those six had hidden themselves in the depths of the ship, including Ellis of District 6. at this stage, the Gamemakers decided to scuttle the ship, leaving the tributes to try and survive on the sinking ship. One tribute died within the ship as it sank, and three more drowned despite initially escaping the sinking ship. Three tributes managed to reach lifeboats, which they used to survive. One tribute, the boy from District 3, drifted too far from the shipwreck in his lifeboat, distancing himself from the supplies. He died of dehydration on the sixteenth day of the Games.**

**The other two tributes who reached the lifeboats, the boys from Six and Nine, stayed close enough to each other to attempt combat once they became the final two. However, Ellis of District 6 was the only tribute with a ranged weapon, which he used to kill the boy from District 9 without endangering himself, making him the victor of the 47th Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**We're almost at the Second Quarter Quell, which means that the oneshot-writing competition is almost over! If anyone still has oneshots that they want to enter, please PM me as soon as possible. I expect the competition deadline to be Thursday or Friday this week. If anyone is still looking for details about the competition, details are in the author's notes for Chapter 37 of this story. Good luck everyone, and may the best author win!**


	48. Where Did All the Love Go?

**A/N: We're over 200 reviews, so special thanks to MJElliot, splendeur, Violagirl23, mangesboy01, richards25, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor and charliesunshine for reviewing the last chapter!**

**Here's a victor who features in my other story 'Mentor', which I updated earlier today, if anybody's interested in reading it :)**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"The rivers of the pavement**

**Are flowing now with blood**

**The children of the future**

**Are drowning in the flood."**

**- Tom Meighan, 2009.**

* * *

**The 48th Annual Hunger Games**

**Harrow Greaves (18), District 4 Male**

**Kasabian- Where Did All the Love Go? (2009)**

* * *

It's been a long time coming.

Finally, after twenty-two long days, we are nearing the end.

It's not been an easy ride, I tell you. I was a member of the Career Alliance for the first six days in this arena, which is a deserted city, before arguments broke out between the males of Districts 1 and 2, and I took my opportunity to escape before the whole thing fell apart.

After six days, there were eleven tributes remaining, and deaths have been infrequent since then. Now there are only three tributes remaining, one from each Career district. Daniel, Lily and myself. All of us are well-armed, well-fed, well-trained and well-prepared for the eventual confrontation.

It's been three days since that last other tribute, the boy from District 8, died. Since then, little has happened. I can feel that something will happen soon. I haven't been forced to move anywhere yet, so I can only assume that the Gamemakers are drawing the other two tributes towards me.

I've set up a temporary base in a small shopfront on what appears to be the high street of the city, not too far from the cornucopia, which was in the civic park at the centre of the city. I've kept all of my less important supplies in a storeroom at the back of the shop, and I'm currently crouching behind the wall at the front of the shop, peering out over the street, waiting for an unsuspecting tribute to walk past. I turn my small dagger over and over in my hands.

Maybe I'll be able to use the dagger for a third time today.

And then I see him.

It's Daniel, the overconfident boy from District 1. I guess I was right about the Gamemakers leading the other tributes towards me, as Daniel runs breathlessly, barely able to put one foot in front of the other as he turns the corner onto the high street, making a careless amount of noise. He crosses over the road to my side of the street, and I drop onto the floor, so that I am lying down next to the shop wall. He won't see me unless he comes into the shop, specifically searching for me. I can't be seen from the outside.

I can hear his staggering footsteps getting closer, hear his desperate breaths. I've no idea what he's been running from, but I'd rather not stick around to find out. I want to get the job done, then get out of here.

I watch as his shadow falls onto the floor of the shop. He's right outside, walking incredibly slowly. Eventually the shadow passes, and Daniel continues to walk down the street.

Now for the hard part.

I quietly lift myself to my feet, sneak to the shop door, and peek outside. Daniel's five paces from me, and starting to recover his breath. I have to act now.

I move silently behind Daniel for a few steps before abandoning stealth and charging at him with my dagger. He hears me approaching and turns just as I raise my dagger to strike, but I am to close for him to have any chance of reacting. I drive my dagger right through his eye socket up to the hilt, and Daniel screams, frantically swinging the sword that he holds in his right hand. Finally I pull the blade out and he staggers backwards, disoriented. I take advantage of his slow reactions to slash at him with the dagger, opening a large gash in his stomach. Daniel drops his sword and collapses into a puddle of his own blood at my feet, still crying out in pain.

I pick up his sword just as Lily, the girl from District 2, runs onto the street at the same junction that Daniel arrived from just two minutes before. She looks red-faced, and it's clear that she has been running for a long time, just as Daniel had. The reason that the two were running was probably the same thing, but I don't care why she is here. Al I care about is the fact that Lily is here, just twenty yards from me. She's not as worn-out as Daniel was, although I have no doubt that because she's half a foot shorter than Daniel was, she's clearly got better stamina. However, I assume that she's been panicked earlier in the day as I realise that she has dropped whatever weapon that she had whilst she was running. From the look on Lily's face as I advance on her, I guess that she's only just realised this too.

She just stands there frozen in shock as I drive Daniel's sword through her heart.

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**A/N: If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. Only two days left for the competition...**


	49. Is It Any Wonder?

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, Vykktor and Violagirl23 for reviewing!**

**Here's another victor that is briefly mentioned in my other story, 'Mentor'. I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"Is it any wonder that I'm tired?**

**Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?**

**Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?"**

**- Tom Chaplin, 2006.**

* * *

**The 49th Annual Hunger Games**

**Julian Sampson (16), District 4 Male**

**Keane- Is It Any Wonder? (2006)**

* * *

I close my eyes as the pod rises and try to calm myself. It's been seven days since the reaping, and I can't say that it's really hit me that I'm a tribute yet.

I never expected to be involved in the Games. Most years our Careers, who have trained for the Games for their whole lives in District 4's Training Centre, volunteer for the children who are reaped by the Capitol.

When my name was drawn from the reaping bowl, this was not the case. Being a sixteen-year-old with reasonable physical presence, nobody volunteered for me. I don't blame the Careers; I wouldn't have volunteered if I was in their situation. Then again, I would never have devoted my teenage years to training to compete in the Capitol's Games.

I guess that I should have some faith in my own abilities. After all, the Careers must have thought that I stand a chance; why else wouldn't they volunteer for me? I'm not the tallest tribute that District 4 has ever seen, standing at a touch under six feet tall, but I'm far from the shortest, too. I might not be the strongest, either, but my slender build aids me in other ways. Endurance, not strength, is my forte.

Still, my lack of sufficient training has left me disadvantaged compared to a stereotypical tribute from District 4, such as my mentor, Harrow, who won last year's Games. My relative inability with weapons has led to me spending all my time during training exclusively at the weapons stations. After three days, I reckon I can handle axes, daggers and swords reasonably well. I know that I can survive, too. Apart from a small bit of skill with daggers, everything that I showed the Gamemakers three days ago was survival skills. I managed to score a seven because of it, so I assume that the Gamemakers are pleased with my ability to survive in natural environments.

However, a training score of seven was too weak to let me become admitted into the Career Alliance, which this year only has four tributes due to the fact that my non-trained, fifteen-year-old district partner Leona wasn't admitted into their group, either. This year, we are just a normal non-Career district. I'll be honest in saying that I don't expect either of us to return home to District 4. We may have scored highly for non-Careers, with a seven and a six, but comparing that to the four nines of the Careers shows that we are a long way behind.

My pod reaches the top of the cylinder and I'm exposed to the bright light of the arena for the first time. I take a few seconds to come to my senses as my eyes adjust before looking around the arena, surprised at what I see.

After several consecutive years of innovative arena designs from the Gamemakers, I was expecting more than the plain green woodland that surrounds the cornucopia. Birches, oaks and beech trees. It all seems incredibly normal.

My concentration doesn't remain on the arena for long, but as I look round at my fellow tributes, suddenly my daze breaks and I begin to realise how much danger I am in.

The boy from District 2 is on the pedestal to my left, grinning with joy at the pleasant surroundings and gesturing towards the boy from One, who is four pedestals to his left. On my right is the timid girl from District 5. She must be twelve or thirteen, and certainly stands no chance of winning the Games.

Searching further afield, I try to find Leona, as we have agreed to stick together for mutual protection during the early stages of the Games.

Eventually I find her, and our eyes meet just as the gong sounds, signalling the start of the Games.

A minute has passed already!

I stand still on my pedestal for a few moment, completely shocked, watching the boy from Two sprint towards the cornucopia. The sight of him bending over to pick up a dagger reminds me of the danger that I am in, and I turn to run into the undergrowth twenty yards behind me.

Thankfully, no other tributes run in my general direction as the lucky few flee the bloodbath which has now started at the cornucopia as hear cries of pain reverberate around the arena. I can tell that Leona as been watching me, as I see her run through the chaos at the cornucopia straight towards me. As I wait quietly and patiently in the undergrowth, I watch her bend down to pick up a large orange rucksack, which will surely contain crucial supplies.

She bends down again as the passes the entrance to the golden horn that is the cornucopia, picking up a weapon of some sort. I can't tell exactly what it is, only that the metal glints in the sun.

Leona only manages to get five paces before she is approached by the boy from District 1, who is armed with a sword, and he effortlessly cleaves her in half.

I stare unbelievingly at Leona's body as it collapses to the ground, the boy from One having already moved away to deal with different foes. It takes a moment to realise that she is already dead, and that I am now on my own. Another second, and I understand that the cornucopia is the worst place for me to be right now.

Then I turn and run from the clearing without looking back, desperate to put as much distance between myself and the cornucopia as possible.

* * *

**The 49th Annual hunger Games were relatively short, only lasting ten days. The Career Pack, who were diminished to three due to the death of the girl from Two at the cornucopia bloodbath, only lasted to the third day, when tributes were alive, when they split, resulting in the death of the boy from District 1.**

**Julian**** survived the first three days due to his survival skills, from knowing how to construct temporary shelters and knowing which plants were safe for him to eat. On the fourth day, he ambushed the unsuspecting boy from District 7. The small was taken by surprise and Julian managed to steal the boy's weapon before he had the chance to react. He then proceeded to kill the boy, using his own weapon - an axe - against him.**

**Due to dwindling numbers, the Gamemakers called a feast when the numbers decreased to six. Two tributes - the boy from District 2 and the girl from District 10 - were killed, and the four remaining tributes all received some of the spoils from the feast. Julian managed to upgrade from an axe to a longsword.**

**Of the four remaining tributes, one was killed by the girl from District 1, who was the sole surviving career at this stage, on the ninth day of the Games.**

**Finally, a forest fire was used to draw the final three tributes back to the cornucopia for the showdown, but the girl from One was killed by the flames and the heat.**

**This led to a final showdown between Julian and the girl from District 3, who was well-supplied but poorly armed. The final victory was quick and decisive for Julian, making him the victor of the 49th Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I should now mention that the final deadline for the oneshot competition will be 10 pm (BST), Thursday 6th June. I know that a couple of people will be trying to send in last-minute entries, so there's the deadline. Good luck, and may the best writer win :)**

**P.S. If you don't know who's the victor in the next chapter, I'd recommend reading the original Hunger Games Trilogy before reading on any further ;)**


	50. The Power of Positive Drinking

**A/N: Special thanks for richards25, charliesunshine, MJElliot and TGPH for reviewing!**

**I guess that I should warn that this oneshot contains minor 'Catching Fire' spoilers. I'm sure that all of you readers have already read the second book in the trilogy, but I'm writing this just to be on the safe side :)**

**I hope that you enjoy this chapter about the most important of the victors in the trilogy, Haymitch Abernathy :)**

**"We can pretend that none of this ever happened**

**And I do depend on the power of positive drinking**

**Hold out your hand, and help this drowning man sinking**

**Off the deep end with the power of positive drinking."**

**- Colin MacDonald, 2012.**

* * *

**The 50th Annual Hunger Games (The Second Quarter Quell)**

**Haymitch Abernathy (16), District 12 Male**

**The Trews - The Power of Positive Drinking (2012)**

* * *

I've lost track of how many days that I've been in here already, but I've had quite an easy ride through the arena so far. There are only fifteen tributes left. Now, usually that would sound like quite a lot, but this is the Second Quarter Quell, and the twist that President Snow revealed for this year's Hunger Games is that two boys and two girls will be reaped from each district, resulting in forty-eight tributes in total.

The arena can be seen as both a blessing and a curse. The weather conditions are perfect; eighteen or nineteen degrees, a slight cooling wind. The aesthetic beauty of the arena is unparalleled, too. A tranquil meadow, filled with lush grasses and exotic flowers covers seventy percent of the arena. Several cool, clear rives wind their way through meadow. At one end of the arena lies an idyllic snow-capped mountain; at the other, there is dense woodland.

At first sight, the arena appeared to supply the needs of every tribute. So many tributes(including two from my district) were simply so stunned by the arena's beauty that when the gong sounded they remained on their pedestals, gazing in awe. Due to this, I was one of very few tributes that sprinted to the cornucopia, allowing me to pick up a backpack of choice and a knife, evaporating into the meadow before most of the tributes had even stepped off of their pedestals. I was lucky that I got out of there early. Eighteen died in the initial bloodbath at the cornucopia. We were down to thirty tributes within an hour.

Of course, double the amount of tributes meant double the amount of Careers, and after the death of two of them at the bloodbath, a well-stocked pack of ten Careers formed on the first day.

Luckily, my early escape from the cornucopia meant that I didn't have to worry about them for the first two or three days. I was also lucky that I had enough food and water from the cornucopia to last me for a long time; it quickly became apparent that almost everything in the meadow was poisonous. Everything from the clear water into the streams to the pollen from the flowers, if inhaled too directly, at least. Having my own supplies was a massive advantage as the numbers were culled to twenty-two within five or six days.

In this time I stuck to the edges of the meadow, towards the end of the arena with the mountain, and I managed my first kill in the arena. It wasn't anything to be proud of, I still fell guilty about it now. It was some poor young boy who had chosen to sleep in a really vulnerable position within the meadow. It was an easy to move to make to slit his throat, but the will power required to do it was massive.

And I regret doing it.

But life in the arena went on, and yesterday I ended up in the midst of chaos as the oh-so-peaceful mountain exploded in a volcanic eruption, wiping out ten tributes, including five of the Careers.

Today one more tribute has gone, but as there has been no death recap since their death, I have no idea who it is. All I know is that eleven tributes are still alive as I walk slowly along the border between the meadow and the woods, taking care to stay away from the now lava-filled half of the arena, where the scarred remains of the mountain are still smoking.

"Over there!"

Who was that?

My worry turns to panic as I turn to find three Careers, all of which are from District 4, forty yards behind me, singling me out as a target.

_Oh, hell._

I turn to run but quickly realise that any attempt to escape the Careers would be in vain, as all three are older, stronger, faster than me. Despite the odds, I realise that I have no choice but to turn and confront them.

By the time that I turn, I'm amazed how close the Careers have got to me; they are barely ten yards away and closing fast. Trying to catch them out, I raise my knife, prepared to make the first strike.

The first Career - a boy armed with a sword - is completely caught out as I plunge the knife straight into his chest. He screams and drops to floor as my attention turns to the second tribute. It occurs to me that I might have just killed for a second time, but before I get a chance to think more about it, the second boy from District 4 charges at me with an axe, slicing through my left forearm. I cry out in pain but somehow manage to keep my focus as he swings the axe again, dodging his blows. Over time he becomes reckless, leaving me with an opportunity to drive my knife up into his ribcage. His cannon sounds almost as soon as he hits the floor.

The third tribute from District 4 (and the only girl) is armed with a dagger very similar to my knife, and we are very equally matched as we fight, always somehow managing to counter each other, but never managing to deal a serious blow. Slowly she begins to push me backwards into the meadow, and suddenly I lose my footing and slip, crashing to the ground. The girl reaches down with her free hand, grabs the front of my shirt and hoists me off of the ground, so that our faces are almost touching. I become aware that she brings up her knife so that it is between my body and hers, touching my neck with just enough pressure for me to know that she is the one in control.

"Drop the knife," she whispers, and I have no choice but to obey. I hear the soft thud as the blade drops into the grass.

"It's all over for you now, District Twelve," the girl taunts, and I can tell that she's the type of Career who wants to make sure that their victims suffer tenfold before their death. She's trying to cause me distress, but if I'm honest. I'm not worried. I know that there is nothing that I can do but accept my fate, so I have nothing to worry about. So when I do reply to the girl, it flusters her slightly.

"Yeah, I know."

"Enough of your lip, little boy," she snaps fiercely, but I don't regret my answer. "Any more of that, and I'll-"

The girl cuts herself off as she suddenly starts screaming and her grip on me loosens, dropping me to the ground.

Fumbling to find my knife, I notice that the girl has a dart buried in her throat as she fall forward, still screaming, never to rise again. Two cannons - that of the girl and the boy that I stabbed earlier - go off one after the other as I watch a sleek figure with blonde hair and blue eyes appear out of the woods, holding a blowgun in their right hand.

It's Maysilee Donner, one of my district partners,and the only District 12 tribute from the town this year. The other three, including myself, are from the Seam. Despite being district partners, I'm not expecting her to show me sympathy; there are only eight of us left, after all.

"Allies?" Maysilee asks suddenly as I lie on the ground in front of her, surprised by her offer. "We'd live longer with two of us."

For a moment, I pause, but then realise that already I have become dependent on the help of other tributes to last this long, and so I make a quick decision.

"Yeah," I say, smiling as I pull myself to my feet. "Allies."

* * *

**And so the District 12 alliance was formed with only eight tributes alive in the arena. Haymitch and Maysilee worked well together, surviving for the next four days as they slowly moved towards the edge of the arena, at which point Haymitch managed to break through the barrier hedge to the land beyond.**

**Maysilee told him that they needed to move on, but Haymitch didn't want to leave, and so the alliance was broken, with just five tributes remaining. After, Maysilee left, Haymitch discovered by accident that beyond the cliffs that lay behind the hedges, there was a force field that repelled objects back onto the land. But before he could study it in more detail, he was interrupted by the sounds of Maysilee's screams.**

**She had been found by a pack of muttations; brightly-coloured pink birds with skewer-like beaks that had descended upon her from within the woods. Even though he was no longer allied with her, Haymitch ran to her aid, but he was too late. Before he arrived, one of the birds had skewered Maysilee's throat with its beak. Still, Haymitch stayed with Maysilee, holding her hand until she died.**

**That evening, the pool of tributes was reduced to three as one of the boys from District 2 was attacked by a pack of man-eating squirrels, no doubts muttations.**

**With all three remaining tributes in the woods at one end of the arena. The boy from District 5 was the first to go; killed by an axe that the girl from District 1 used as her weapon of choice.**

**The final confrontation occurred just after noon, and it was a long and drawn-out battle. Haymitch, despite being the far weaker tribute, managed to cause heavy injuries to the girl from District 1, but not before she had cause serious harm to him, too.**

**Looking to escape, Haymitch ran back towards the edge of the arena where he had found the gap in the hedge that he had created earlier, and stood by the cliffside, waiting for the girl from District 1. With both tributes being on the verge of death, the girl threw her axe at Haymitch desperately, but Haymitch ducked beneath it. Haymitch watched as the axe flew over the edge of the cliff, only to come rebounding back moments later. The unsuspecting girl had no time to react as the axe buried itself in her head causing her to collapse, never to rise again.**

**With more than his fair share of luck, Haymitch Abernathy has become the victor of the Second Quarter Quell, and the first District 12 victor in forty-three years.**

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, which has been one of my favourites to write during the series so far.**

**If you did enjoy it, please review! Constructive criticism is most definitely welcome. I want to make this chapter as perfect as possible.**

**Also, now that we have fifty complete chapters, I'm curious to hear if you have any favourite victors/arenas/moments from the series so far. I'm sure that some chapters have stood out more than others :)**

**P.S. You have twelve hours remaining if you want to submit a oneshot for the 51st Annual Hunger Games. The competition ends at 10 pm BST tonight.**


	51. Last Night on Earth

**A/N: Firstly, thanks to richards25, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor, MJElliot and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**Well, this has been a very, very hard decision indeed. After many, many very good entries, I literally took days over this decision. But there must be only one winner, and so I congratulate MJElliot for his winning entry to this competition.**

**Many other oneshots had lots of creative ideas in them, but this one stood out; there was just something special about the way that it was written.**

**I chose the song based on the story, not the other way round with this one :)**

**I hope that you enjoy MJElliot's chapter :)**

**P.S. This chapter is written in American English, as opposed to 'English' English that is used in other chapters (I hope that makes sense).**

**"My beating heart belongs to you**

**I walked for miles 'til I found you**

**I'm here to honour you**

**If I lose everything in the fire**

**I'm sending all my love to you."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 51st Annual Hunger Games**

**Toby Denham (17), District 10 Male**

**Green Day- Last Night on Earth (2009)**

* * *

_Where is she?_

I wish I could call out her name, but that would only attract trouble at this point. So I bite my lip and crawl forward through the tall grass. We've been in the arena for almost a week and I've been searching for her ever since; Jessie, my district partner, my friend… my love. I watched the arena sky every night with my heart threatening to burst out of my chest hoping not to see her face among the fallen. So far she was lucky, but I couldn't count on that luck lasting much longer. Only eight of us are still standing, four of which are Careers, who still have their alliance intact.

And the arena provides very little cover. It's a seemingly never ending sea of tall grasses, a few mounds breaking the monotony here and there and the cornucopia glinting in the unforgiving sun. There are no trees, no water (except for the rain that falls regularly every second night) and no weapons; a boring follow up of the Second Quarter Quell.

Or so we thought. The Gamemakers made up for the unimpressive scenery and lack of bloodshed with an array of traps and muttations. Everyday a new horror is released upon us; everyday our numbers go down by the hand of the Capitol. It started with the lightning storm that welcomed us in the arena. This year there was no bloodbath at the cornucopia, since we all scattered trying to escape the crackling balls of electricity coming down from the sky. Three of us were hit by the unnatural form of lightning and were charred alive while filling the arena with agonizing howls and the sickening smell of burnt human flesh. A horribly deformed pack of mutts that attacked two days later practically ripped another pair limb from limb and the earthquake that followed opened up gashes in the earth, which swallowed the boy from Twelve up to his neck, then slowly crushed him to death. I know this because I was there when it happened; I watched him pleading, begging me to save him, I watched his face growing redder as the pressure built, crushing his bones and heard his voice fading away as life drained out of him. But the earth was unstable and there would have been no point in me sharing his fate.

The Career Pack weren't satisfied with the Capitol doing their work for them. Instead they divided the arena into sectors, and did methodical sweeps, trying to draw out unlucky tributes that would fall in their paths; I guess killing people with their bare hands was not beneath them. But they gave up on this venture pretty soon, since the arena, laced with traps at every pace, halved their numbers in just two days. I don't remember any other games where the tributes had to put up with so much of the Gamemakers'…ingenuity, but I guess after last year, they had to prove a point. That we are here at their mercy and that they control everything about the Games. In any case, the Capitol is definitely not deprived of its fun this year.

I stop my crawling just long enough to wipe the sweat trickling down my face, and into my eyes, making them itchy and swollen. The grassland makes it difficult to move around during the day, because anybody doing so is easily spotted. It was less difficult at first, when the grass was still green and lush and provided some form of concealment. But now, after only a week, during which the sun grew hotter and hotter, it turned a burnt, yellow color. As if that wasn't enough, our suits also changed color- from the light green of the first days to a muddy red that looks brighter with every hour spent in the sun. Looking down and my suit I see the color changes in patches, like blood seeping to the surface of the cloth. I shudder at the thought, guessing this wasn't done at random either…

But I have to find Jessie, so I can't afford to stop. I have to find her and protect her and get her out of the arena alive. Even if that means giving up my own life, a life I owe her anyway.

When I was fourteen I had just started helping around with the branding of cattle. My job was menial, of course; I was just a kid back then. But one winter morning one of the bulls managed to cut loose. It ran straight towards me, with its head bent towards the ground and white puffs of breath coming out of its flaring nostrils. Everything happened so fast, I didn't get a chance to move. As I realized it was barreling straight towards me, I remember thinking that I was going to die. I closed my eyes bracing for the impact, but I don't remember it; I just lost consciousness.

They took me to Jessie's dad; he is the healer in our district. He didn't go to school or anything like that, not like the doctors in the Capitol, but his family has been doing this since times long forgotten. He didn't give me any chance. But Jessie took care of me, despite her father insisting I was as good as dead. She changed the dressing on my wounds, fed me clear broth with a spoon and sang to me for more than a week. When I finally opened my eyes, her face was the first thing I saw and I remember thinking she was an angel, with her halo of light brown curls and eyes as dark as the night's sky. I fell in love right then and there and as I got to know her better, this kind, unselfish, beautiful girl, I knew there was no other that would hold my heart.

A piercing scream erupts not far to my right. I could recognize that voice anywhere. Forgetting about the danger of being spotted, I jump to my feet and run towards her. I see two of the Careers - a boy and a girl – kicking at a ragged bundle of clothes curled up on the ground. And then, out of nowhere, I hear the canon going off once and my knees almost buckle underneath me.

"Jessie!" I hear myself howl over the sound of another cannon, without fully registering it. The two Careers turn towards me, a surprised look on their faces. They probably didn't expect me to be so close. I grab the girl's hair and swing her around. I can feel a few strands of her hair dislodge from her scalp. She knocks her partner over, before the momentum pulls her out of my hands. I don't care where she lands; I just launch myself at the boy in front of me, throwing punches at him. I'm not tall, or well built, or trained like they are, but I'm strong after tending to cattle half of my life and my punches are packed with the strength of my grief. I feel each one hitting the mark. I'm blinded by my rage. I throw punch after punch at my opponent's head long after I feel him going limp under my weight.

"Toby…Toby, stop…" At first I think her voice is in my head, and it only fuels my rage. But then I realize how croaky it sounds and I spin around, not daring to hope I might see her alive. But alive she is. And she's a mess; one blackened eye is almost swollen shut, a streak of blood starts at the corner of her mouth disappearing under her chin, her face a puzzle of scratches and cuts. But none of that matters. She is alive! I launch myself forward, wrapping my arms around her bruised body, cradling her to my chest, rocking back and forth, back and forth, mumbling thanks to whatever god brought her back to me. Her hands, wrapped around me, slowly rub my back. It takes a while to register the soothing sounds she is croaking in my ear. Even now, in this broken state, she is the one trying to comfort me.

I hear another cannon go off and my heart somersaults in my chest, almost choking me. I look down at Jessie, frantically searching her face.

"It's ok, it's not me," she whispers but the hovercraft appears above us. I look back over my shoulder to the stiff body of the boy lying a few feet away from us. His face is an unrecognizable mask of blood. My first kill. Suddenly I feel like throwing up. The smell of burnt grass mingled with the scent of blood coming from the boy, from Jessie, from my hands suddenly becomes so strong it makes my head spin and my stomach convulse.

"We have to move…so they can clear out the body." Jessie is right. The hovercraft won't move until it collects the body, and that will only attract others to our location. We start moving, painfully slowly, crawling through the grass. I can see on Jessie's face that every move is agony, so I keep talking to her in soft whispers, urging her to move forward. After what feels like forever we reach one of the mounds and we decide to rest there. I fashion a small shelter out of some rocks and weaved grass to protect Jessie from the scalding sun. She doesn't talk much, just sits curled up under the makeshift cover. The effort was too much for her I think, as she fights to keep her better eye open. I sit next to her, gently running my fingers through her hair, like I used to do back home. At some point she grabs hold of my hand. Her skin is clammy and cold; I guess the shade helps cool her down. I wish I could kiss her bruises away. I long to touch her and hold her and tell her I love her. But I can't. I won't do it in front of the prying eyes of the Capitol. They can take our lives away, torture us, mangle our bodies and minds. But I won't let them have the love I bear in my heart. As long as I keep that hidden, they can never really own me.

It was quite difficult to hide our feelings from the mentors and the nosy, Capitol scum that is our escort, who watched over us constantly. We were lucky that Indiana, Jessie's mentor, was the first one to recognize the feelings we both tried so hard to hide. And we were luckier still when she agreed that we should keep them to ourselves instead of using them to win sponsors. She was the one to come up with the idea to present ourselves as best friends; best friends determined to get to the final two and win the games for our district's honor. That was a big load of cow dung, but it allowed us to be close without raising romantic suspicions.

I smile and touch my index finger to my nose two times - something Indiana used to do when she secretly reminded us she was keeping our secret safe - hoping she gets the message: "Thank you for coming up with the plan", then I let my fingers curl around Jessie's and we wait hand in hand for the nightfall and the rain that comes with it. There are five of us left.

* * *

**The next day a swarm of mutt insects finish the girl who had attacked Jessie. The Careers look for Toby and Jessie and get quite close, so Toby draws them away, since Jessie is too weak to run. One of the Careers gets crushed to death by a huge snake that she stumbles upon while chasing Toby. Finally, the boy from District 2 and Toby fight it out and, after lengthy one on one combat, Toby manages to choke his opponent with a handful of dirt.**

**Toby is determined to give up his life so that Jessie wins the games, but he can't do it without saying goodbye first. So he heads back for the camp. He sees Jessie in the distance, supporting herself on the pile of rocks that make up the shelter. He's close enough to distinguish the relieved smile on her face as she recognizes him too. She allows herself to slide down to the base of the rocks and slowly touches her hand to her heart- another little sign they invented since the Reaping, which means "my heart belongs to you". Then, her head slumps to one side and the cannon goes off one last time, signaling Jessie's death.**

**Grief stricken Toby finds out during his final interview the she died due to internal bleeding which started after her violent encounter with the Careers.**

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**A/N: A review for MJElliot, anyone?**

**Regardless of what you thought of this chapter, I'd recommend checking out their profile. If you just like reading general Hunger Games fanfiction, there's a good story that's currently being worked on about Effie. I'd advise giving it a read.**

**What would everybody think about publishing the other entries in a separate story? Most of them are far too good to waste. Please let me know what you think.**

**P.S. Normal service will be resumed with the next chapter :)**


	52. Joker and the Thief

**A/N: Thanks to Clover80, mangesboy01, charliesunshine, Chop n thunder, richards25, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor and Silent2411 for reviewing and giving MJElliot the praise that he rightfully deserved for the last chapter :)**

**Apologies for the gap between updates, I've spent the last week reading a lot more than I've been writing, but now normal service shall be resumed.**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"What you see, well you might not know**

**You get the feeling coming after the glow**

**The vagabond is moving slow**

**So I'll tell you all the story about the joker and the thief of the night."**

**- Andrew Stockdale, 2006.**

* * *

**The 52nd Annual Hunger Games**

**Luke Ford (16), District 5 Male**

**Wolfmother- Joker and the Thief (2006)**

* * *

Ever since a young age, my parents have always tried to help me survive the arena, if I was ever unlucky enough to be reaped. Of course, I couldn't be trained openly in District 5; unlike in the Career districts, my parents would have been arrested if they had tried to help me. By my father, who once watched his brother perish in the Games (I can't remember which Games, it was before I was born, back before the First Quarter Quell), tried to ensure that he would never have to watch another family member die.

He could tell from an early age that, given my physical presence, I would stand a chance in the Games. However, in a weaponless arena (and there have been a couple over the years), I wouldn't stand a chance in the arena.

It's an odd sort of training, but he's always been pointing out various objects around the house and our district, and making sure I know exactly how much damage they can do. I know how to make everyday objects lethal; surely a big advantage for the arena.

Even given this odd training, I never wanted to enter the arena, but now that I have been chosen at my fifth reaping, I feel as though I have a chance of getting home alive. My strength scored me an eight in training, which will be good enough to earn me sponsors later in the Games, and I made sure not to show the Gamemakers my hidden talent.

Even before I entered the arena, I was aware that these Games were going to be different. For the first time (at least, the first time that I know of), I was given a weapon along with my clothes in the launch room beneath the arena. Once I had dressed in my clothes (a dark green t-shirt, black combat trousers), my stylist Anastasia had handed me a .38 caliber pistol, and one small, shiny bullet. I'd heard of firearms being used in the Games before, but I knew that they were unpopular with the Gamemakers. The gun that I was given wasn't particularly elaborately designed or anything, but it was crude, practical and most certainly deadly.

My next surprise came once I had entered my pod and was transported into the arena.

The arena itself was a large, abandoned city, not dissimilar to the arena four years ago. Supplies weren't an issue for any of the tributes; although the arena was abandoned, it was in pristine condition, as though the city's residents had mysteriously disappeared just before I entered the arena. Shops were still full of food and supplies, and those who could find a way into the blocks of flats would find extra supplies waiting for them in the homes around the city.

The arena was made unique by one feature; there was no cornucopia.

I was almost looking forward to what I had presumed would be the cornucopia bloodbath, given the fact that I was armed with a pistol, but it wasn't to be. My pedestal raised me up into a marketplace on the outskirts of the city, with no other tributes in sight. There was to be no bloodbath.

The fact that the arena was not only spread out over several square miles but also twenty or thirty floors meant that I was surprised that four tributes had been killed by the end of the first day, including one of the Careers. Having heard gunshots echo through the city that day, I knew that I wasn't the only tribute to be armed. No wonder there was no cornucopia bloodbath; we'd all have shot each other.

On the morning of the first day, I found my first victim; the boy from District 3. I was in one of the small civic parks, near where I thought that the centre of the city was, when I crept up on him. A quick shot to the back of the head from close distance, and there was one left tribute in the arena than before. It was an odd feeling, getting that first kill. I knew that I should have felt sickened and horrified by what I had done, but I only found relief in knowing that there was one less person out there trying to kill me.

On inspecting the body of the dead boy, I came to realise that he had a gun identical to my own, with one bullet loaded within the chamber. I took the bullet from his gun and loaded into mine as I began to realise the Gamemakers' plans.

Every tribute had a gun, and one bullet. To kill, a tribute use their bullet, only to replace it with the ammunition from the dead tribute's body. A tribute would only have one bullet at a time. In a confrontation, if a tribute fired first and missed, they would be defenceless against their armed adversary. It would be a gamble to shoot first.

And so, from the second day onward, I began to use everything that my father had taught me, to make sure that I could kill without using my gun. That way, I would be able to hoard supplies so that I could have two or three chances to shoot against more formidable foes such as the Careers.

The next ten days would see the arena whittled down to just eight tributes including myself, and I killed four of them myself without my weapon. Who needs a gun when you can kill someone by dropping a toaster onto their head from out of a fifth-storey aparment window?

And so here I am, running for my life on day twelve of the Games. Four tributes remain; myself, the girl from District 6, and two Careers. I'm confident that I'm the best armed, at least. I have four bullets, and only three people to shoot.

As I swerve through the shopping centre that is opposite the town hall, I know that the tributes of District 2 are hot on my heels. They're twenty or thirty yards behind me, but I know that I have to keep weaving to prevent them from finding a clear line to shoot. Glancing back, I can see their reflections bouncing off of the windows of the shops around me, their guns at the ready.

Finally I break free from the shopping centre and onto the street, which I sprint across towards the cold stone steps of the town hall. As I sprint up the steps, I hear an explosion behind me, and feel the bullet flick past me as it flies into the front wall of the building, taking chunks out of the stonework. I have no idea how many more bullets the Careers have, so I don't stop running.

Once inside the hall, I come into a large conference room, filled with hundreds of lavishly decorated tables and chairs arranged so that they can view a large stage at the far end of the room. On further study, I realise that there is a figure at the far end of the room; the girl from District 6. Noticing me, she drops down from the stage and advances upon my, her gun held out in front of her, a malicious smile spread across her face. Suddenly there is another guncrack, and I feel the bullet flick through my long hair as it flies past me before nestling in the chest of the girl from Six, who collapses silently onto the floor twenty yards ahead of me.

I quickly realise that I have nowhere else to run; it's difficult to hide in a large conference room, and the Careers have already drawn me in. They have already fired twice; with luck, the Careers won't have any bullets left.

I turn to find that the Careers are no longer focused on me, but on each other. The girl, who is clearly stronger than I had previously thought, had pinned her district partner back against a table, who holds his gun just out of her reach. The girl's gun lies redundant on the floor, presumably empty. I guess that the boy had one more bullet than the girl, and now they both need it.

From twenty yards away I watch the boy kick wildly at his district partner, and they collapse together onto the floor. The boy smashes his head onto a chair on the way down, leaving him unconscious on the floor, relinquishing his grip on the firearm.

I don't wait any longer.

Rushing towards them, I shoot at the girl as she struggles to lift her partner from on top of her as she reaches for the gun. My first shot hits her in the left forearms; she swears loudly in pain but still manages to throw her partner's limp body away from her. My second shot misses the girl completely, going through the floor at her feet, but the third finds its target, burying itself in the girl's chest. She collapses, her blood covering the blue carpet, but there's still life in her yet.

I rush over to her and fire the last bullet through her head at point-blank range, and I hear the cannon sound overhead.

Throwing my useless gun away, I grab the one that the girl had been reaching for, and luckily find that there had been a bullet in it after all.

Behind the dead girl's body, her district partner is just beginning to drift back into consciousness as I drive the bullet through his skull.

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**A/N: So, what do you think? If you liked it, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I'd just like to point out that I've posted the other competition entries for the last chapter in a separate story, so if you feel like you want to read them, then please feel free to check them out :)**

**P.S. Anybody up for another competition? ;)**


	53. All These Things That I've Done

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, DigbyThompson, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor, charliesunshine, mangesboy01, Kiliflower and Silent2411 for reviewing!**

**Also, in response to a guest review (District4girl), I'll gladly use the victor, but the year of the Games would have to change due to trying to keep in canon with my other fanfics. Still, I'm sure that I can find a place for her in the latter chapters of the story.**

**Which reminds me; we're over two thirds of the way through! :D**

**Here's another victor from 'Catching Fire'. Tick, tock, tick, tock...**

**"Over and in, last call for sin**

**While everyone's lost, the battle is won**

**With all these things that I've done**

**All these things that I've done."**

**- Brandon Flowers, 2004.**

* * *

**The 53rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Wiress Duncan (17), District 3 Female**

**The Killers- All These Things That I've Done (2004)**

* * *

In the eyes of the Capitol, the Hunger Games is the most exciting spectacle of the year, where hundreds of thousands of people give three weeks of their attention to twenty-four young tributes, eager to see them spill each other's blood.

In the eyes of the Capitol, the victors of these Games achieve eternal glory and the prestige associated with surviving the arena. Victors should be respected and idolised for achieving the success that they always craved. They aimed to survive the arena, and proceeded to do exactly that.

Revered by all in the Capitol, many victors have become household names in the city, from Amadeus Cato to Ivy Grant, and from Harrow Greaves to Sapphire Tompkins.

Of course, the Capitol mainly remembers the Careers, who had been hungry for victory all of their life, and devoted their teenage years to surviving the arena. Many of them are the perfect image of a strong, proud victor that the Capitol has come to idolise over the years.

But many of the victors, especially those from non-Career districts, fare much worse after the arena.

For those who have had to suddenly adapt to the life-and-death ideals of the arena, the experience can be traumatising, even for the victors. Many victors have been damaged beyond repair in many ways. And I'm not just referring to physical injuries, such as those that Chaff of District 11 suffered a few years before the Second Quarter Quell. Some victors are mentally scarred to an extent that I never knew was possible. Some just about manage to keep control of their lives, but are left empty; shells of their former selves. Others, such as a couple of aging victors from District 6, turn to substances - drugs, alcohol, painkillers; anything they can get their and on, really - to block out the world.

Either way, the arena changes everyone.

I've only been in here a week, and already I feel like I've aged by ten years.

Nothing was of real importance at home in District 3. I was learning to go into my father's trade, as he works as a postman for the district, but has been struggling in his job lately due to his age and the recent onset of arthritis in his knees. It's not a typical job for District 3, but someone's family has to do it, and my super-intelligent elder brother will clearly be going into better things than the mail service. Because I would be secured a job in District 3, school was of little interest or use to me, so I spent more time chattering at the back of classrooms with my friends than actually paying attention to the teachers. Everything in my life was trivial.

Then came the reaping, and suddenly I found myself flung into a very dangerous world, that I haven't yet managed to escape. I now know that the Wiress who entered the arena definitely won' be leaving it.

There really is no way of describing the events that I have seen other than as atrocities. It's only been eight days since I entered the arena, and eleven of us are still alive, but it has felt like eternity. Every day I have woken to a new terror, believing that it will be my last.

But this morning, as I slowly rise from my slumber, I feel more vulnerable than ever.

The arena is nothing too unique; an arctic valley, lined with snow-capped pines and surrounded by vicious mountains. A frozen river meanders through the valley, which is roughly half a mile wide, and is the only body of water in the arena. This being said, nobody ventures to it as water is easily accessible due to the abundance of snow.

Throughout the first week, I took care to stay predominantly within the confines of the dense woodland high on the slopes of the valley, hopefully out of the way of the Careers, who had been on the prowl all week. Along with my district partner Christopher, I managed to survive well until the seventh day of the Games.

Then came the Careers.

There were only two of them; one was from District 4, but I didn't recognise the other. I spotted them early, blundering through the undergrowth with little ease, making enough noise to alert the whole arena of their whereabouts. Still, our efforts to escape were futile; only my slight, nimble body let me narrowly escape their grasp as I took to the trees to evade them.

Christopher, however, was not so fortunate.

At home, when watching the Games live, I had seen it all before, but nothing actually prepared me to watch somebody die.

Christopher and I had escaped the bloodbath on the first day early, grabbing the nearest backpacks to our pedestals and leaving hastily. Since then, we'd barely seen anybody else.

It wasn't just the sight that horrified me. It was the way that his screams echoed through the valley, the sadistic glint in his murderers eyes when no mercy was given to him, and the way that the air hung thick with the smell fo blood as his decimated corpse lay alone on the frozen ground once they were gone.

Like it or not, it was an experience that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

But in the arena, what goes around, comes around. And yesterday evening, merely six hours after Christopher's demise, I found myself in a life-or-death situation once again.

I'm lucky that I didn't stumble across a Career, otherwise I probably wouldn't be able to sit here recalling yesterday's events, as I am doing right now. It was the girl from District 7; a youngster. A weakling.

I'm still not sure whether that made it better or worse, either killing an innocent, defenceless child or risking my life against a stronger, older, better-trained tribute. Nor am I sure how I managed to commit the act of killing so effortlessly. I knew that it was bound to be a horrific experience, so I tried desperately to rely upon my instincts and block out reality, but to no avail. Emotion still seeped through as I hacked frantically at the poor girl with my stolen knife, which was still coated in Christopher's blood. I'm not sure whether it would have been better to be the murderer or the murdered.

_Murderer._

I'm already starting to refer to myself as a murderer.

I can't afford to let the arena change me. Not yet.

I've still got a job to do.

For the sake of Christopher and all the other poor children to be killed so far in the Games, I owe it to them to try.

And I'll continue to try my hardest to survive.

Until I start to lose my senses, that is.

* * *

**The 53rd Games lasted a further five days, until, on the morning of the sixteenth day, the Gamemakers played their trump card; a set of vicious ice mutts designed to look like the tributes already slain during the Games.**

**The deadly mutts forced the final six into confrontations, killing three and forcing the other three together; the girls from Districts 3, 4 and 9. The strongest of the girls, the Career from Four, had already fininshed off the girl from Nine by the time that Wiress arrived in the small clearing that the ice mutts had led them to, but the Career was battle-weary and unprepared at Wiress' sudden attack, eager to finish the Games.**

**During the fight, the Career was defeated, but Wiress couldn't bring herself to strike the final blow to the defeated girl. After a few seconds of indecision, the ice mutts approached the girl from District 4, finishing her.**

**In death, Christopher's ice mutt had managed to take revenge on his murderer.**

* * *

**A/N: I feel as though this might have flitted through quite a few topics...**

**Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :) We got a record nine reviews for the last chapter, can we go one better with this one? :)**


	54. Gun Control

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, charliesunshine, I-am-Cashmere-of-district-one, coaster317 and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**I hate to be in this position, but I should apologise for the lack of updates in the last fortnight. Even though the summer holidays have come (no more GCSEs! :D), I've found myself more busy than any time during the year. **

**I have still been writing, though, mainly 'bonus' chapters for this story, which I am not yet fully happy with and will be adding at a later date.**

**But now onto happier news; it's time for another competition! This one will work much like the last, where you have to write a chapter about a chosen tribute. However, this time, you get to choose the victor.**

**The competition will be for the 69th Hunger Games, and the victor must be a Career (from District 1, 2 or 4) and must be aged sixteen or older. Other than that, it's up to you what you write.**

**The deadline will be the day that I post Chapter 68, in roughly four or five weeks' time. Good luck everyone!**

**Now, on to today's chapter, which is about a victor first mentioned in 'Mockingjay'. I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"Another bunch of kids in a bloody mess**

**Another maniac killing ****innocents**

**Analysts and experts on C.N.N.**

**Explain away the pain on a day so grey**

**Without the dark the stars can't shine**

**I pray to hope through the hard times**

**But things could change to save more times.**

**Why oh why do they second guess?**

**Gun control**

**My my my what a bloody mess**

**Bless their souls."**

**- Colin MacDonald, 2009.**

* * *

**The 54th Annual Hunger Games**

**Lyme Fairbanks (18), District 2 Female**

**The Trews- Gun Control (2009)**

* * *

Everything turns black for twenty seconds as the capsule transports me upwards into the arena.

I don't like the dark.

Darkness means the unknown.

In the life of a Career, unknown variables could be the difference between life and death.

Even when we return to the light, the unknown will remain. The arena will be designed to challenge us; it will make one of us into an unstoppable victor, and break the other twenty-three in more ways than one.

I've seen almost everything in arenas over the years, both from the Games that I have watched live for the last seventeen years or the endless repeats of old Games that trainees in the District 2 Training Centre have to watch and analyse.

I've seen grasslands, forests, deserts and tropical islands. I've seen desolate districts, abandoned cities, wooded valleys and arctic tundra. I've seen caves, swamps, mazes and endless warehouses. The cornucopia was filled with explosives in the 36th Games. There wasn't one in the 52nd. There's been shopping centres, cargo ships and volcanoes.

But none of the previous arenas prepared me at all for what I see as my capsule reaches the top of the cylinder and the arena becomes visible.

I can hardly see anything. I'm in a small room that has no lighting, so I can't tell what else is in the room with me.

Only the dusty, sandy floor in front of me is lit by the shafts of light that stray into the room from the archway that leads out into the rest of the arena.

Looking through the archway, I can see the dusty floor stretch out towards stone walls over fifty or sixty yards from me, with dark archways built into the wall at regular intervals. No doubt other tributes lie in wait inside there. Also, I can hear the faint cheers and chants of an audience. I have no idea where they are, but I have a feeling that I will see them soon enough.

Suddenly I feel concerned, as I realise that I can see the tributes opposite me. Assuming that we are all arranged in a circle, the cornucopia should be hindering my view, yet it is not. There's something about this that is starting to make me feel uncomfortable.

Another thing that is worrying me is the fact that (and I'm assuming it's the same for the other tributes) I have been led into the arena wearing only my underwear. I'd better find some clothes quickly, to serve as both protection and warmth for the cold nights that will no doubt lie ahead.

Suddenly the gong sounds, and the Games begin. In an instant, light fills the small room that my pedestal is in, and I see that the room is barely ten feet wide, and contains only bare stone walls, and opposite to the door lies a pile of supplies. Above the supplies is a wooden sign, which reads:

_Myrmillo_

_Helmet, manica, sleeveless tunic, shorts and belt, greaves, sandals, gladius, shield._

Not understanding half of the sign, I looked down to find armour, clothes and weapons. There was a simple beige-coloured sleeveless tunic and shorts which I pulled on hurriedly and fitted a crude leather belt before slipping into well-worn leather sandals. On the pile beneath the clothes, I find two copper (or maybe bronze?) shin guards, which I clip around my legs. Next is an elaborate armguard, made of several plates of bronze attached together by some leather strips. I attach it to the outside of my right forearm. At the bottom of the pile is a bronze helmet, with a small image of a fish carved into the top of it. I don't like the design, but quickly slip on the helmet. It's possibly the most useful thing that I've been given.

In the corner of the room, there is a red oblong-shaped shield leaning against the wall, and behind the shield is a short sword, just over a foot long.

Holding the shield in my left hand and the sword in my right, I run out into the rest of the arena.

Suddenly the whole thing makes sense.

The arena is an arena.

I'm in arena fifty yards wide, surrounded by ten feet high stone walls, with twenty-four archways in it, where tributes are beginning to emerge from cautiously, armed in a variety of ways. The floor is hard-packed dirt and sand, and the arena is open-air, with the July sun beating down ferociously upon us. Trapped within my bronze helmet, I'm starting to think that clothes and armour were the wrong things to wish for. Within the arena, there are dozens of backpacks scattered around on the sandy ground, no doubt filled with food, medicine and other valuable supplies. Somewhere off to my right, I see a larger archway that I notice leads off to the world outside this arena.

Before I can go to it, I run into the centre of the sand, searching for a decent backpack. As I was one of the first tributes to leave the starting room, I have no opposition as I reach a large backpack. As I pick it up, I realise that it has next to no weight, so I assume it to be nearly empty. Dropping the backpack, I set my eyes on another slightly smaller one and head straight for it.

En route to my new target, I watch as I see the girl from District 7 being killed by a helmeted boy who clumsily swings two swords.

Only now do I properly become aware of the crowds, who roar as the small girl collapses, her blood seeping into the sand around her. Looking up above the walls that enclose us, I notice hundreds and thousands of people watching us in tiered seating, cheering on the killers. They all seem to be wearing very old-styled, simple clothes, and chanting in a strange language that I can't comprehend. Scanning round the crowd, I notice a section where there is a small balcony jutting out ten feet towards the arena, where three important-looking men look down over us in important-looking red military uniforms, unmoving. All three men are recognisable by sight. The first is Head Gamemaker Tacitius Lowe, the second is his young assistant Ludovic Fawkes. Despite the nameplate written in elaborate font beneath him reading _Caesar Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus_, I knew the man in the centre of the balcony to Panem's President, Coriolanus Snow, although he looks to be aged around forty, which is clearly a trick by the Gamemakers, considering the fact that he has been ruling Panem for twenty-seven years.

Reverting my attention to the arena, I grab the backpack that I had been searching for, which feels heavy enough to be full of decent supplies. I look up to find a tribute in front of me, the girl from District 12, wearing nothing more than a sand-coloured tunic and armed with a reflex bow. As she raises her bow to aim, I see that her face is a picture of pure hatred. It only takes me a moment to realise that I have nowhere to go.

Suddenly she lets that arrow fly, and it goes way over my head. Relieved, I turn to follow the arrow's flight path, and I begin to realise that the girl was never aiming for me. The arrow flies towards the President's balcony where it flies into the crowd after passing between Fawkes and Snow. I look on shocked as Snow raises an eyebrow before frowning as the arrow flies past him, his snake-like eyes settling coldly on his assailant. Slowly he holds his right arm out in front of him before giving a signal; his thumb facing down.

It all happened almost at once. Two Peacekeepers ran out into the middle of the arena amongst the fighting, forced the girl to her knees and shot her twice in the back of the head. They left with the body almost instantly.

All the tributes, including myself, had been shocked by what had happened, especially those who didn't see the girl from Twelve shoot at Snow. Their momentary lapse allowed me to attempt to escape from the horrid arena.

As I near the arched gateway that led out of the arena, I notice a tribute next to me; the boy from District 4, armed with a trident and net, and a dagger tucked through his belt.

"Allies?" he asks.

I haven't thought about the other Careers so far today, and I've managed alright on my own, so my decision is quick.

"No."

Before the boy can do anything, I drive my sword through his chest until the tip protrudes from his back. I pull out my blade and let the boy fall, screaming in pain.

I don't turn back to look at his dying figure until I am out onto the streets.

* * *

**The arena for the 54th Annual Hunger Games was modelled on the ancient city of Rome in the 2nd century AD, with the cornucopia being replaced by the arena of Rome's largest amphitheatre, the Colosseum.**

**All the tributes were equipped with weapons and armour that would have been given to various types of gladiator, such dimacheri (two swords), retiarii (trident and net), myrmillones (sword and shield) and sagittarii (reflex bow). Supplies had been distributed within the arena of the Colosseum, not within a cornucopia and so the fight was much more open, as every tribute had to face the bloodbath in order to escape to the rest of Rome. Fourteen died within the first hour at the Colosseum, including four of the Careers.**

**The remaining ten took another week to be reduced to six, due to the fact that the city of Rome had been recreated along with a population, and it was difficult to find each other once tributes mingled with the Roman crowds.**

**Many headed into the lower boroughs of the city, where they were mobbed by criminal gangs in dark alleyways in the middle of the night or had their supplies stolen by day. One tribute drowned when he took to the river Tiber to escape the night gangs.**

**After all the tributes separated from each other among the urban sprawl of the city, the Gamemakers used their favourite weapon; fire. After causing fires to rage through the wooden buildings of lower Rome, the three tributes who survived the fire took to the land around the imperial residences on Paletine Hill, where Lyme of District 2 killed the final other tribute, the boy from District 1 (of gladiatorial class thraex - moderately armed, curved sword and shield) to win the 54th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: That took a long time to write...**

**I've always seen the Panem society as having parallels with ancient Roman culture, so a gladiatorial arena seemed like a good idea when I started writing this. However, my strong interest in ancient Roman society led me to make sure everything was historically accurate :/**

**After all the research this took, I suppose I should mention that this is meant to be Rome under the Emperor Marcus Aurelius (who ruled 161-180 AD).**

**Oh well, it was fun to write for the first five hours...**

**Anyway, if you enjoyed the chapter, then please review! Can we get past 250 with this chapter?**

**P.S. I'll try to get the next chapter out with the next two days, not twelve like this one :)**


	55. Alright

**A/N: Thanks to Kiliflower, Clover80, richards25, Violagirl, charliesunshine, Dragontune172 and I-am-Cashmere-of-district-one for reviewing as we're now over 250!**

**I'm going through a bit of a blank patch in terms of arena ideas... if anyone's got any good ideas (and they aren't going to use them in the competition) then please PM with your ideas :)**

**Anyway, on to today's chapter, about another Career, who was briefly mentioned in my story 'Second Time Unlucky'. And I really do mean ****_briefly, _****too. I think he had one or two lines to say in the only chapter that he appeared in.**

**I hope that you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"I guess I'm alright, guess I'm alright**

**I guess I'm doing fine, guess I'm doing fine**

**D'you think I miss you? D'you think I care?**

**D'you think I'll lie here and die?"**

**- John Power, 1995.**

* * *

**The 55th Annual Hunger Games**

**Draco Bond (18), District 2 Male**

**Cast- Alright (1995)**

* * *

I stand over her bloody body, feeling just as I have done since I entered the arena ten days ago.

Emotionless.

I kneel down beside her on one knee to pull my dagger from her bloodied chest. I comes loose easily, and I throw it aside for a moment. I take the time to gently close her eyes as I move away from my district partner.

I can't pretend that I ever liked Samantha; we never really spoke much in the seven years that we spent together in the Training Centre in District 2. We were in different training groups; I trained under an elderly victor called Cicero, while she trained under Brutus.

I always knew that she was better than average. I'd heard the trainers talk about her potential on multiple occasions. I might never have liked her, but I certainly respected her. Anyone who wins the mock Games is respected by the whole district.

Just like the rest of us who survived the mock Games, she certainly earned her right to compete.

Then we volunteered for the 55th Annual Hunger Games, and were taken into the custody of the Capitol. Our mentors were Amadeus and Ivy, and they treated us well. We made a good impression during the Opening Ceremonies, and backed that up with strong training scores; nines for both of us. By that stage, we were bound to get a large amount of support from the sponsors, regardless of our performance in the interviews. That said, our interviews went relatively well, although District 4's tributes stole the show.

Then came the arena.

After spending seven years preparing for combat in every possible environment, I was pleased with the arena.

Low, rolling hills and fields. Rural countryside. Occasional small copses or other areas of woodland. Little shelter, but plenty of food among the hedgerows. At one side of the arena, the ground sloped off down to a coastline, where I stand now.

The Career Alliance was always small this year; District 4's tributes were both fifteen, and were lacking in ability. Once we saw that they got a seven and a five in training, we knew that we had been right to refuse their entry into this year's Alliance. The girl died at the cornucopia, but the boy is still out there somewhere.

At the cornucopia, we picked up choice supplies, in which I got a dagger and a short, curved sword. The girl from District 1 was injured somehow, and we had no choice but to finish her once the fighting had died down.

So by the end of the first day, the Career Alliance was down to three, with fourteen left in the arena.

Progress was slow from then on, as we became unable to split up and hunt due to our small numbers. In the first week, most of the kills made in the arena were made by other tributes, as eight tributes remained on the eighth day.

On that day, we ran into another group of three; both tributes of District 12 and the boy from District 10. Of course, they fled in our presence. We killed the boy from Ten; he wasn't fast enough to escape us, but the other two kept running all the way to the coast, with us hot on their heels.

At the point where they reached it, the coastline had formed a small bay, where the only way down was along a steep coastal path down an almost vertical cliffside. We didn't dare take the risk of following them down the path. There was no food in the bay, after all. Sooner or later, they would have to come back up the cliff.

We camped out that night at the top of the hill, and only realised our mistake when I woke to see a silver parachute float down into the bay. The intervention of sponsors would be able to keep the tributes of District 12 alive for the time being, at least.

Waking my allies urgently, we ambushed the tributes of Twelve, killing them mercilessly. However, I am convinced that our attack had angered the Gamemakers, because as soon as the cannons had sounded, the Gamemakers caused an unnaturally large wave to flood the whole bay instantly. The boy from One, who couldn't swim, was lost to the sea.

With the numbers in the arena down to five, Samantha and I decided to stay close to the coast. By the time we woke today, on day ten of the Games, the numbers had been cut to four; Samantha, the boy from Four, the girl from Six and myself.

I've known since we ambushed District 12 that our alliance has been on its last legs, but I didn't expect Samantha to turn on me so suddenly as we entered another bay further along the coast. Walking down another steep cliffside path, she attacked me from behind. I'm not even sure how I managed to fend her off, but somehow Samantha ended up falling thirty feet onto the sand below.

With heavy injuries, Samantha was almost defenceless as I arrived where she had fell.

It was over all too quickly.

Now I stand alone, wading in the shallows as the tide begins to come in. For a few moments, the tranquility of the scene almost lets me escape the arena. I'd never seen the sea before, until this week. I'd heard of its beauty, but never witnessed it for myself, as District 2 is landlocked.

As I see the sun set in front of me, casting it calming orange rays over the water, I watch Samantha's body get carried out by the tide. In death, she looks beautiful. Innocent, even. For a moment I allow myself to feel sorry; sorry that I killed her, and sorry that a life that might once have held such promise ended in such a sudden and traumatic way.

But the moment passes quickly as a cannon rings out in the twilight, and I remember where I am. This is the arena, and I'm a Career tribute of District 2. That's why I killed Samantha. I was fulfilling my duty, to bring glory and riches to both myself and my district.

The arena is down to two, and I have a job to do.

* * *

**The Games barely managed to last another hour.**

**The death of the girl from District Six had been caused by the boy from Four, who had been fighting an uphill battle ever since he was rejected by the Career Alliance.**

**In the end, it was dumb luck that the final two found each other so quickly. The Gamemakers didn't need to do anything as the boy from District 4 spotted Draco in the bay as he walked past.**

**The element of surprise was ruined as the boy clumsily made his way down the steep path to the bay, and Draco was ready for him when he arrived on the beach. **

**The final fight was much less exciting than the audience had expected, as one tribute was clearly superior to the other. Armed with very similar weapons (both had variations of short sword), the stronger tribute was also better trained.**

**It only took Draco Bond of District 2 just over two minutes to be crowned the victor of the 55th Annual Hunger Games as the sun finally dropped below the horizon in the arena.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	56. I Hear Voices

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, I-am-Cashmere-of-district-one and byrnebella for reviewing!**

**This chapter features an arena suggested in a guest review (beauthg), although I have changed the victor.**

**I hope you all enjoy the chapter :)**

**"I hear voices**

**They tell me to stop."**

**- Tom Meighan, 2011.**

* * *

**The 56th Annual Hunger Games**

**Harvey Collings (16), District 8 Male**

**Kasabian- I Hear Voices**

* * *

I wake to the same terrifying monotony that I have risen to for the last week of my life.

Every day I have woken believing that day to be my last, and today is no exception.

The last week has been a whirlwind of emotions. Everything from excitement and hope to grief and despair has run through my brain in the last week.

And now? I'm just frightened.

The story started badly enough at the reaping two weeks ago today. It was a bad beginning simply because I was reaped to compete in the 56th Annual Hunger Games. In fifty-six years of our district offering up tributes to these sadistic Games, only one tribute has made it back. And it's been forty years since Woof entered the Games.

One out of a hundred and ten of District 8's young men and women have made it home. That's as bad as any other district. Less than one percent. That's definitely not a statistic that fills me with confidence.

I'm coming to my senses in the darkness as I remember where I am. Or, more to the point, _roughly_ where I am. I don't even know anymore.

Buildup to the Games started harmlessly enough. I was never perceived as an outstanding tribute, but I did well enough to score an eight in training, and pulled off a decent interview. Enough to win over a few of the Capitol's people, at least. But whatever the sponsors had been impressed by clearly wasn't enough to give me lasting support, as I have haven't relieved anything in days. Not since I became lost in these tunnels.

Even early on in the Games, everything was fine for me. The arena was an open, sandy desert, which looked hostile at best. The cornucopia sat atop a large sandstone pyramid fifty feet above us, and the race to the top of the pyramid determined who gained the best supplies. I did rather well for myself, as despite being relatively small, I'm quite nimble and was the first to reach the top of the pyramid. There, I gained a large backpack full of food, water and medical equipment, as well as a small knife and a reflex bow and arrows.

I ran out into the desert, where conditions weren't as bad as I had first imagined. On the first night, I slept safely in an arena that then only held fifteen tributes. Two Careers were gone, too; well, one member of the Alliance (the girl from Two), and the boy from District 4 who, for whatever reason, had decided to go it alone.

It was only day two when the Gamemakers intervened for the first time. It was just after noon when the sandstorm suddenly came upon us, forcing us back towards the pyramid at the cornucopia. I arrived at the pyramid completely worn-out and wondering what the Gamemakers wanted of me, but gaps had opened up in the side of the pyramid, allowing me to enter inside it.

That was possibly the worst mistake I have ever made.

The insides of the pyramid were a maze of narrow, damp tunnels that seemed to go on forever in almost pitch-black conditions. Sometimes there were stairs or slopes, which mainly led me deeper below the pyramid. Occasionally the tunnels open out into brighter, open spaces usually filled with some sort of prize; food, weapons and the like. I always keep to the shadows, as I'm almost certain that the prizes will be trapped. Despite losing my bow and arrows when escaping the sandstorm, I still have my knife and my backpack. There is no reason why I should risk anything going for supplies.

Not yet, anyway. I have enough food to last me another four or five days. in three days' time, I might start getting desperate.

There are other problems, too. I think there are traps other than the ones that I suspect exist around the supplies. On multiple occasions I've heard noises in the tunnels. Low rumblings, a scuffle of feet, a scream and a cannon; someone or something is in here with us, preying on us. A couple of times I've felt as if the walls have been closing in on me, but as of yet, nothing has actually happened to me.

In some ways, that's the worst thing; nothing has happened to me. The Gamemakers haven't picked on me yet. It's only a matter of time before they do. It's torturing, mentally. The fear is probably worse than the pain.

It's not all been bad, though. It's cold, dark, and I'll admit it's a little scary, but other than that, so far I'm still in decent shape. I'm strong, well-supplied and well-armed. Plus, I'm almost certain that the Careers have split up. Although little has happened to me since entering the pyramid, the pool of victors has been whittled down to just six. The only two Careers alive are the boys from Districts 1 and 2, and I doubt they'll be together as I remember them arguing during training a week and a half ago.

As the day drags on (I believe it's day, as I can't actually see daylight anymore), I walk ever deeper into the maze of tunnels. I've given up on getting out. I just hope that the other five can finish each other off before anything happens to me.

It's almost the end of the day when I stumble across another opening, this one being about ten metres across. The cold stone walls are lit by two wooden torches attached the walls, giving the room a sinister feel.

I'm about to move on past when I notice him.

It's another tribute, silhouetted by the light of the torches, bending down to gather the supplies, seemingly unharmed by what I had assumed would be a trap.

I can't tell who it is until he turns round and his face catches the light.

It's the small boy from District 6; certainly no threat to me. I don't even think he's armed.

But this is the Hunger Games, and I know what I have to do.

The voices inside my head are screaming for me to stop as I draw the knife from my belt and advance on the small, terrified, _helpless_ little boy.

* * *

**In a week and a half, the 56th Hunger Games were over. When Harvey Collings of District 8 killed the boy from District 6 to cut the pool of tributes down to five, the Games were two days from the finale.**

**The boy from District 6 had been very lucky prior to his death; as Harvey had suspected, nearly all the piles of supplies in the arena were booby-trapped.**

**Harvey didn't have to kill again.**

**The next death was the boy from District 2 who was hunted down by his fellow Career from District 1.**

**The other two tributes, both of District 7, had allied when they met in the tunnel a few days before, and ended up meet their ends due to one of the booby-trapped piles of supplies scattered through the tunnels.**

**The final two, Harvey and the boy from District 2, met by chance, but the Gamemakers didn't want it to end that way.**

**No sooner had the two boys met did the Gamemakers start bring the roof of the tunnel down, forcing the boys upwards and towards the exit of the pyramid. Only one tribute managed to escape the tunnels; the faster runner, Harvey Collings of District 8, the victor of the 56th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	57. Tumble and Fall

**A/N: Thanks to RealFiction, byrnebella, nevergone4ever, mangesboy01, RunnergirlI, richards25 and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**Apologies again for the lack of chapters in the last week, I'm currently off on holiday. Apart from enjoying myself on the beach, I have also been doing a fair bit of reading, mainly of Lemony Snicket (Daniel Handler)'s 'A Series of Unfortunate Events'. If you haven't read them, it's definitely a series that I'd recommend.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"We tumble and fall, forever we'll crawl**

**Forever we'll be, tumble and fall."**

**- Grant Nicholas, 2005.**

* * *

**The 57th Annual Hunger Games**

**Yvonne Grady (17), District 5 Female**

**Feeder- Tumble and Fall (2005)**

* * *

"Calm down, Yvie," Aaron scolds me, and with good reason, too. I've been protesting stubbornly all afternoon. Maybe it's due to the malnourishment or maybe it's the sleep loss, but either way, I'm not happy.

The days in here feel too long, and the nights feel too short. In an arena set in icy, arctic terrain, the cold is also a factor to be considered. Due to thick down coats, the cold isn't usually a problem for my district partner Aaron and I, but we have our own issues.

Maybe it's affecting everyone else too, but I'm finding myself to be increasingly infuriated by almost permanent snow blindness, as I have no way of protecting my damaged eyes from the bright rays reflecting directly off of the constant sheets of metre-thick ice.

Hopefully I won't have to spend much longer in here. Since arriving in the arena, we've made a conscious effort to put as much distance between us and the cornucopia as possible. Now, Aaron and I find ourselves at the edge of the arena on a steep, snow-covered slope that reaches a near cliff-face a hundred yards further uphill. We've taken care to avoid the Careers, who make up four of the remaining ten tributes. Assuming that I've counted correctly, I only know one of the other surviving tributes by name; Titus. The tall boy from District 6 seemed intimidating from day one and scored a nine in training, so I know that he has potential, but I haven't seen him since the Games began.

Currently, I walk behind Aaron across the snowy slopes, as my district partner insists that we should keep moving through the arena. He says that we should try to learn all of the arena, but so far all our walk has resorted in is tired legs and aching feet; it all looks the same to me under the snow.

I'm relieved when Aaron finally sets down his crossbow and his backpack to set up a makeshift fire. The sun is beginningto creep down below the jagged, daunting horizon as we stop to eat. I welcome the chance for a rest, making small talk whilst preparing myself for the inevitable walk to our overnight resting place, down the slopes to the darkness of the snowy forest that constitutes over eighty percent of this arena.

However, the walk never comes.

Aaron is still attentively arranging his backpack when the first tremors run through the ground. For a minute, we think nothing of them, but then the intensity increases, and one knocks Aaron onto his back. It only takes a few more seconds before we hear a loud rumbling, like constant gunfire, cannoning around the arena.

"Avalanche! Go!"

I don't need to be told twice.

I begin to feel the ground break up beneath me as I begin my sprint downhill. Aaron is a few paces behind, but I already know that he won't catch up with me. He is taller and stronger than me, but he is much heavier and slower than I am, too. Add in the fact that his rucksack is much heavier than mine, and I don't hold much hope for him.

After what feels like several minutes (but in reality was probably thirty seconds), I risk a glance over my shoulder. Looking back, the whole cliffside appears to have been turned into an icy liquid, which hurtles down the snowy hillside after me. I can just make out the dark figure of Aaron, twenty or thirty paces behind me, the writhing mass of the avalanche looming just over his broad shoulders.

I almost lose my footing in the snow, which forces me to revert my attention to descending the slope. As I turn, I notice a figure in the snow below me, further down the slope. It takes me a while to recognise him, but I find that the boy is Titus, from District 6. His coat (along with most of his body) is blood-stained, and he has no weapons and no supplies. Yet as both myself (armed with my short, curved sword) and the avalanche bear down on him, he stands still on the slope.

I consciously prepare myself for a fight, but he doesn't even move as I hurtle past him at full speed. As I pass him, I notice that beneath the dried blood all over his face, Titus was smiling. His eyes had an excited glint in then. Considering his position, I'd be tempted to call him mad. But I'm not about to stop running and encourage him to escape the avalanche, either. It's his funeral, after all.

I keep running long after I enter the forest, way past the furthest reaches of the avalanche. When I finally run out of energy, I collapse to the ground in the centre of a snowy clearing within the forest, completely exhausted. I lie spreadeagled on my back, staring up into the crisp blue sky when I realise that Aaron is nowhere to be seen. I don't even know if he survived the avalanche.

I guess I'm on my own for now.

* * *

**The first week of the Games were dominated by the prominence of one tribute; District 6's Titus, a tribute who lacked mental stability, resulting in him becoming a deranged cannibal. When the Gamemakers finally chose to stop him by interfering with an avalanche, three other tributes were eliminated too, including District 5's Aaron.**

**This left six tributes in the arena, including three Careers. When no deaths came for three more days, the Gamemakers organised a feast, successfully drawing all six surviving tributes to the cornucopia.**

**Yvonne then won the Games at the fast due to strategy. She was the last to arrive at the cornucopia, and by the time that she had arrived, the arena was down to three, and she was the only tribute to be in perfect physical condition. The other two tributes, the girl from Two and the boy from District 9, both had wounds that would almost certainly be fatal. This gave Yvonne an easy job to finish the two tributes and become the victor of the 57th Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. Thanks to anyone who has already submitted a chapter for my second competition! There's still plenty of time before the 69th Games, so keep sending in those chapters! :) **


	58. Holiday

**A/N: Thanks to RealFiction, ThatHufflepuff, Violagirl23, Kiliflower, RunnergirlI, richards25, I-am-Cashmere-of-district-one and Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin for reviewing!**

**Due to the books I've recently been reading (A Series of Unfortunate Events) having a lot of detailed vocabulary, I imagine that today's chapter will probably be more descriptive than most. Whether that's a good thing or not, I don't know. I guess that the readers should be the ones to decide that!**

**The song used as inspiration for today's chapter, 'Holiday' by Green Day, stands to make a political point about the Iraq War, telling all the soldiers who signed up for glory that war isn't everything that it's meant to be. In Panem, there's another group of young men, willing to risk their lives in the hope of grasping eternal glory; the Careers.**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies**

**This is the dawning of the rest of our lives."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2004.**

* * *

**The 58th Annual Hunger Games**

**Auriel Hope (18), District 4 Male**

**Green Day- Holiday (2004)**

* * *

As the pedestal stops its journey upwards and deposits me into the arena, it takes my eyes a few moments to adapt to my new surroundings.

I laugh out loud when I realise what my environment is before I can help myself.

I'm in the District 4 Training Centre, the place where I have spent the last seven years preparing for these Games.

All these years, Harrow and the other trainers have been teaching me how to prepare for every possible environment that could possibly be the arena. I can't help but find it amusing that I will begin the Hunger Games in my home.

I can't see my district partner, or the cornucopia for that matter, as I stand in the main training hall of the Centre, where I've been learning to fight with Georgie since I was eleven. There are no other tributes in sight, but it doesn't bother me. I'm only dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, so I can assume that the arena is warm, outside this cool, shaded sports hall.

_These Hunger Games are going to be easy._

As the gong sounds, I don't run, I just calmly walk back through the sports hall towards the exit near the front of the building, allowing me to walk along a corridor from which I can observe the land outside.

Surprisingly, there is no District 4 outside the Training Centre. In front of the building, there is only a layer of hard-packed dirt that stretches out towards the cornucopia, which is situated over two hundred yards away. Around the golden horn, there are a variety of buildings, all equidistant to it, that look like a variety of homes. By waiting a few moments, I see a few tributes take their first tentative steps from their houses before running to the cornucopia.

I jog along the corridor towards what I know to be the weapons store within our Training Centre, and I'm not surprised to see my district partner trying to hurriedly open the thick oak doors. I help her to pull them open before she steps through first into the small room that I can see is full of assorted weapons which will help us win the Games.

I'm glad that I let her in first.

No sooner has she stepped through the doorway do the large oak doors slam shut behind her, trapping her inside. For a moment I attempt to prise the doors open, but quickly realise that my efforts are futile. Suddenly I hear scuffling coming from inside the room, followed by a long, shrill scream and then nothing.

For a moment, I stand in front of the door expecting to hear a cannon, but then remember that the Games are still in the bloodbath stages and that I will have to wait until the carnage has stopped to find out if my district partner is alive or dead.

Slightly shaken, I leave the weapons room behind me and make my way towards the back of the building as I move purposefully towards the kitchens, where I hope to find an easy source of food.

Approaching this door more cautiously than the last, I twist the handle and then give the door a gentle push, allowing it to swing open slowly.

The door is only half-open when the first kitchen knife comes somersaulting through the air towards my head. I crash to tr floor instinctively, smashing my chin against the cold concrete. Then comes another knife, and another, and I hear at least seven or eight clatter against the concrete behind me. Then there is silence. After what must have been twenty or thirty seconds, I get to my feet and edge slowly towards the open doorway into the kitchens.

Now visibly shaken up, I think I'm starting to understand this arena. The houses, homes and other buildings within the arena must all serve the same purpose as this Training Centre.

Our homes have been recreated in this arena, luring some of us (including myself) into a false sense of security as the Gamemakers have filled our homes with a variety of traps.

I was wrong to ever think that the Games were going to be easy. I had thought that, with my proper training, the trip to the Capitol would be little more than a glorified holiday.

_How wrong I was._

I may have thought that there would be little by way of hardships, but I'm only ten minutes into the Games and I can already understand completely why they have such a notorious reputation. This arena has been designed to throw us out of our comfort zone. It has been designed to make us suffer.

Knowing that the fun and games are already over, I step gingerly into the kitchen. The traps from this room have already been spent, but all my complacency has been shaken out of me. It takes me a couple of minutes to assure myself that the room is safe, but there is no benefit of this. All the food is gone. It looks like I have to make my way to the cornucopia after all.

I get out of the Training Centre by breaking a window in the west corridor (I don't want to run into any more traps), and slowly make my way towards the cornucopia. Already I can hear the screams echoing off the cliff walls around the arena, and I can see the red figures lying in the dust; the first victims of the Games.

In the moments it takes for me to reach the cornucopia, I think back to my first weeks at the Training Centre when I was eleven. I think back to all the lies and half-truths that our district's previous victors had told me about the glory and prestige that is gained by entering the Games. How amazing the experience it is; about the excitement and the honour.

_And I believed them._

But this isn't a pleasure cruise anymore. This is the Hunger Games, where I must do my job or face the deadly consequences.

* * *

**The 58th Games were short.**

**Auriel arrived at the cornucopia as the bloodbath entered its final stages, and he quickly allied with the three other surviving Careers. There was very little actual violence during the Games, as many tributes (especially those from the outlying districts) remained in the homes which they believed to be safe, until the Gamemakers' traps led to their untimely deaths. In the eighteen houses and three training centres that made up the arena, fourteen of the twenty-four tributes died due to Gamemaker traps.**

**The most violence came on the fifth day, when the Career Alliance disbanded, resulting in the deaths of both tributes from District 2. The final battle, however, was full of excitement, as the male tributes of Districts 1 and 4 chased each other through the expansive maze of corridors that made up the District 2 Training Centre, with Auriel Hope eventually emerging victorious as the victor of the 58th Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: I'm not sure how this one turned out... It's not as descriptive as I expected and I'm unsure on how I wrote a couple of scenes, but thanks to ThatHufflepuff for the arena idea. I appreciate it :)**

**If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! Can we get to 290 with this chapter? :)**


	59. Comprachicos

**A/N: Thanks to RealFiction, ThatHufflepuff, Charliesunshine, Kiliflower, beauthg, richards25, Nevergone4ever and Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin for reviewing!**

**I've tried something different for the arena in this chapter; something that I'm amazed that I haven't thought of using before.**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"Throw it away; 'Cause I got the patience**

**To see that you drown; To watch you go down."**

**- Rob Swire, 2010.**

* * *

**The 59th Annual Hunger Games**

**Holly Thorpe (16), District 9 Female**

**Pendulum- Comprachicos (2010)**

* * *

I turn the corner sharply, desperate to close the gap to my enemy. Another minute, and the Games could all be over.

I'm not entirely sure how the boy from District 3 survived until the final two. He's barely over five feet tall, has no strength and no apparent weapons. Surely he's got something up his sleeve.

As I weave through the corridors of the large school where this year's Games are set, I realise how the boy has survived. He has survived the same way that I have, by using stealth.

It was easy to cut the Careers down to size this year. In the tight, claustrophobic corridors of the old school, it was impossible for them to hunt in groups; there are too many hiding spaces in all the school's classrooms for pack hunting to be effective. Add in the element of surprise I gained from my stealth, and it was easy to swing one-on-one fights in my favour. I took out three of the Careers myself; both from Two and the boy from District 4. I don't know how the other three died, but all six were dead within the first week.

After that, it became apparent to the Capitol public that several tributes that had never been considered for victory - such as myself and the boy from District 3 - were suddenly gaining support rapidly.

The second week saw my intake in gifts from sponsors increase exponentially. Extra food stopped me from having to scavenge supplies from the tributes that I killed. A new weapon - a long, curved dagger - helped my take my tally of kills to seven - and luxuries such as a first-aid kit have rendered me virtually invincible. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I know that I should come out if this arena alive.

The boy from Three continues to flee until I chase him into the science block, which only has one exit. I'm slightly cautious once I enter as I know that the boy has set up camp in here; I remember seeing him run this way at the start of the Games, and I've seen him loitering around the science block from a distance throughout the Games.

I follow him down another corridor until he slips into a classroom at the end of the corridor, slamming the door behind him.

I open the door after him, as he makes no attempt to barricade the entrance, and I suddenly understand why.

The workbenches in this particular chemistry classroom are covered with equipment; dozens of beakers, test tubes, filtration devices and many other things I don't recognise that all come together to a single tube leading into a container, which I can see is steadily filling with a liquid. Whatever it is, I know it won't be good news.

_Damn, this boy's clever._

The boy from District 3 stands calmly on the far side of the classroom, sitting on a workbench with a lit Bunsen burner next to him. I watch him pick up a wooden splint that lies next to him, dip in the flame, and I watch the burning wood soar gracefully through the air into the unfriendly-looking liquid.

I don't even have time to move before there is a flash of white and then nothing.

* * *

**The end of the 59th Games were an anticlimax. The boy from District 3 had managed to produce an extremely flammable liquid using the school's chemistry supply, and planned to use it as a trap. However, his trap was too powerful, and seriously injured both himself and the girl from District 9, Holly. As the science block burned down around them, both tributes lay on the cold floor, unconscious. The boy from District 3 was the first to succumb to the smoke and the flames, meaning that Holly Thorpe of District 9 was the victor of the 59th Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I published a new story yesterday, a fanfic for 'A Series of Unfortunate Events'. If anyone has read those books and wants to check it out, then I'd appreciate it if you did :)**

**With thanks,**

**GM97 :)**


	60. Some Might Say

**A/N: Thanks to RealFiction, ThatHufflepuff, Charliesunshine, richards25, nevergone4ever and Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"Some might say we will find a brighter day."**

**- Liam Gallagher, 1995.**

* * *

**The 60th Annual Hunger Games**

**Alexander Neville (18), District 9 Male**

**Oasis- Some Might Say (1995)**

* * *

I guess I should hate being reaped for the Games, but I guess it depends how you look at it.

Many people (including myself) would have having to fight for their lives, but in comparison to many of the people of District 9, I have little to fight for. My family have always been the poorest of the poor in our district, and now the Games offer me an escape. Now I will never have to go back to the poverty-filled life that I had. I'll either earn my family - myself, my mother and my two younger sisters - a life of relative wealthiness and good fortune in Victor's Village, or I will die trying.

I'm not only fighting for my own family, though. During the past year, the many poverty-stricken families of District 9 have managed to battle through the hardships with the help of the aid that Holly Thorpe's victory in the Games had given our district. Unless I win again this year, that support will end, and many of my district's people will fall into the vice-like grip of poverty once again.

_I am my district's only hope_

My district partner, who was aged just fourteen, died on the first day. She was killed in the bloodbath by the Careers, and was one of the eight faces in the sky on that first night. Without her, all of my district's hopes are left with me.

Despite how much pressure there is for me to succeed, I know that if I ever want to win the Games, now is as good a time as ever.

I grew up watching the Games in the forties, with large open, natural arenas dominated by the Careers. Lately the more inventive, man-made arenas created by the Gamemakers have led to a change in momentum in recent years, with only a third of victors since the Quell being Careers. This year's arena is no exception.

The Games started in a large, tarmac-covered area, with tall brick-built buildings on all sides. I avoided the cornucopia bloodbath as I didn't want to end up either outnumbered or in a fight with someone who was more physically capable or better equipped than myself.

Being one of the first to escape into the buildings, I was one of the first tributes to fully comprehend the arena.

The arena is a giant hospital.

Just like last year's school arena, the layout of the building has led to stealth being one of the key factors in the Games. However, after last year's Games, the Careers have become more wary and, as of the first ten days of the Games, three of them still remain; both from Two and the girl from District 4.

However, unlike last year's arena, there are an abundance of makeshift weapons to be found in the hospital, from scalpels and bone knives in the operating theatres to needles in the wards.

Food and water aren't an issue, and neither is shelter. The hospital has several large catering kitchens, with enough food to feed twenty-four tributes for months. As the kitchens are located in various buildings, it's impossible for the Careers to guard them all, so food and water is always readily available. As for shelter, there are hundreds of beds in the wards around the hospital, so I'll never be struggling to find a good place to spend the night.

We'll never be short of medical assistance, either. There's so much equipment here, the sky's the limit when it comes to medical aid.

Despite how easy life has been so far in the arena, I am yet to come across another tribute. Whenever I do, I know what is expected of me. My only problem are the mental barriers set up inside my mind. It is wrong to kill.

But that is what I need to do if I want to return home to my family, and there's nothing I can do to prevent the inevitable.

* * *

**The 60th Games were anticlimatic to the Capitol audience.**

By the eleventh day, seven tributes remained when the Gamemakers made their only interference of the Games. Calling a feast at the cornucopia the Gamemakers hoped to end a dull Games quickly. All the tributes were too well supplied; nobody wanted to make the first move.

**The feast was a catastrophe for the Gamemakers. No tributes turned up; nobody was prepared to take the risk of going out in the open at the centre of the arena.**

With their trump card already played, the Gamemakers were resigned to watching the Games unfold. It was six more days until the next kill, when Alexander Neville of District 9 killed the sixteen-year-old girl from District 6. It was his only kill of the Games.

**The surviving three Careers made their alliance last for a record-breaking twenty-four days before tension within the ranks finally caused the boy from District 2 to turn on his allies. He died, as did his district partner when the girl from District 4 turned on her later on the same day.**

It took another five days of nothing happening for the Gamemakers to finally lose their patience on day twenty-nine, causing a controlled demolition of the entire building, with four tributes still alive.

**Only one tribute escaped the building in time, Alexander Neville of District 9, but even then the Games were not over. One tribute, the girl from District 4, lived on inside the rubble. The Gamemakers were entirely powerless as Panem watched the girl slowly starve.**

**Eventually, after a record thirty-four days in the arena, Alexander Neville of District 9 returned home as the victor of the 60th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was different...**

**If you enjoyed today's chapter, please review! Can we get over 300 with this chapter? :)**

**P.S. I know that quite a few of you have been asking, so I'm going to mention that, from next chapter onwards, there will be a long run of know victors from the original series, starting with... Well, you'll just have to wait to find out ;)**


	61. Planetary (GO!)

**A/N: We're over 300 reviews, so special thanks go to RealFiction, ThatHufflepuff, mangesboy01, richards25, beauthg and Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I've had this victor requested quite a few times, so I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"This is a letter, my word**

**Is the beretta, the sound**

**Of my vendetta**

**Against the ones who planned it."**

**- Gerard Way, 2010.**

* * *

**The 61st Annual Hunger Games**

**Cecelia Wright (15), District 8 Female**

**My Chemical Romance- Planetary (GO!) (2010)**

* * *

I hate it in here.

Ever since my name was called out at the reaping, I expected the worst. After the failures of last year, I knew that the Gamemakers would show no mercy this year.

I'm not surprised to know that my hunch was correct.

Three days in, and nineteen tributes are dead. The arena, a mass of boulders and small, fruitless bushes, yields nothing to help a tribute survive. The cornucopia was harsh, too, as although I gained some supplies, they barely lasted a day. I know it was going to be bad from that moment onwards - the Careers never had enough supplies, and they split on the second day. Now none of them are alive.

The Gamemakers have tried everything else in their power to kill everyone else off, too. The weather has been a major factor for me, and has left me on the edge. Searing to way over fifty degrees celcius during the day, and plummeting way below zero at night. Either way, the sky is cloudless, and I haven't seen so much as a drop of water in three days. There wasn't even any water in the supplies at the cornucopia. A person can only last three days without water. Somehow I get the feeling that in the next twenty-four hours, the Games will be over.

Literally everything has been pitted against us, even the clothes that we wear. Denim trousers and a long-sleeved t-shirt. It's far too much to wear in the day, but offers us next to no protection against the cold.

Then there are the mutts. I wouldn't be certain that they were mutts unless I'd witnessed their actions first-hand. Hundreds of small black snakes slither through the scrub all around us constantly. I see one every five minutes or so. On the first day, when my district partner Harris was still with me, a snake suddenly darted out of the bushes at him. He was dead in twenty seconds.

There is no way of escaping from the Gamemakers. They choose who to strike out at next, and there is nothing you can do to stop them. There were no weapons at the cornucopia, so you have no defence against whatever the Capitol chooses to throw at us next.

The sun slips below the horizon, signalling the end of the third day as a cannon fires. I watch the death recap; there were five faces in the sky today, and four of us remain alive in the arena.

I curl up in a ball on the cold ground, desperate to try and save as much body heat as possible. Something tells me that I won't see another dawn in this arena. The Games will end tonight.

I'm almost certain that the Gamemakers have already chosen their victor, and that the other three of us will die off in the coming hours. This isn't the Hunger Games; this is a glorified execution. Revenge for the tributes of last year's Games who refused to fight when they had no reason to. They could survive without resorting to violence, so they did. This year, as punishment, they have made it so that none of us can survive.

I have no choice but to huddle up on the ground and wait patiently while the ice seeps into the very core of my body, listening in hope of the cannons that will signal the end.

* * *

**Twenty-two of the twenty-three tributes to die in the arena were killed by the Gamemakers. The only other tribute to die, the boy from District 11, was the only death of the bloodbath, as the boy from District 2 killed him with his bare hands at the cornucopia.**

**Cecelia became a victor by default; she didn't have to kill anyone to win the 61st Annual Hunger Games, she was merely the last tribute standing.**

* * *

**Well, that was something new... :)**

**If you enjoyed today's chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed! :)**


	62. On Standby

**A/N: Thanks to Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, beauthg, richards25, Kiliflower and RealFiction for reviewing the last chapter!**

**Here's another victor from 'Catching Fire'. I'm sure that you all remember her :)**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"Could you sense a tragedy?**

**Because I saw it on the BBC**

**There's a panel on that channel**

**Could you walk a narrow line?**

**I need to know I'll serve my time**

**With some use."**

**- Rick Witter, 1996.**

* * *

**The 62nd Annual Hunger Games**

**Enobaria Blake (17), District 2 Female**

**Shed Seven- On Standby (1996)**

* * *

After twelve days, it all comes down to this.

Three of us remain, and all of us have been through hell and back to get here.

First is Topaz, the girl from District 1. She's strong, but has nothing on me. She's armed, as she has been all through the Games, with her trusty bow. But now, for the first time, her supply of arrows is running low. I'd usually have expected a girl with her good looks to have more support from the sponsors, but instead they have been directed towards the boy on my right.

Martin, the boy from District 4, stands on my right. For a Career male, he's quite small, and was reaped rather than volunteering for himself. I doubt he was ever trained for these Games, but he's clever, and managed to make a name for himself within the old Career Alliance before we split three days ago.

Having never had the girl from Four in our alliance, the five of us had stuck in a pack for the early phases, whittling down the numbers. Twelve after three days. Then nine. Then seven.

Eventually, my district partner and the boy from District 1 turned on us, but the numbers were in our favour, and we killed them. Topaz and Martin even let me have the pleasure of killing my own district partner.

After that, the three of us went our own ways. I don't know who killed off the boy from District 5. All I know is that he was dead by the following evening. The day after that, I found the girl from District 11, and killed her mercilessly with my throwing knives, which have been my weapon of choice for years. I never ever miss. _Ever._

And now, on the twelfth day of the Games, all three survivors are together once again at the cornucopia, which is situated in a clearing among the dense deciduous woodland that makes up the arena.

"Let's not waste any time," Topaz says as Martin approaches, who is the last to arrive. "This needs to be over."

Instinctively, both myself and the boy from District 4 duck as Topaz shoots an arrow, which happens to soar way over Martin's head. Topaz swears as she reaches into her quiver again to find that she has one arrow remaining.

It's luck that saves Topaz at first, as the first of my three knives flies harmlessly over her shoulder. I blame myself for it; I threw whilst I was off-balance, and my accuracy suffered for it. She's distracted by my throw, and Martin sees his chance to charge at the girl from One, holding his sword ready to swing. She turns at the last moment with an arrow ready, but doesn't have time to shoot before Martin's sword scythes through her, and she collapses into the grass.

Martin stands over her, looking shaken but strong, and I throw a knife when he stays still for just a moment too long.

At least, I had thought it to be a moment too long. Somehow he managed to leap to the side. He's far more agile than I gave him credit for. With only one knife left, I can't risk throwing again. His weapon may be larger and stronger than mine, but it's still blade vs blade. I'm stronger than he is, anyway, and I match him for height. I'm undoubtedly better trained than he is, judging by the way that he wields his weapon, and I'm not afraid to tackle him head on.

As I lunge at him, I can see that for all his offensive strength, he knows nothing of how to defend in proper combat. His reflexes are very good, and he dodges my attacks rather than parrying them, and I make sure that he has no time to strike out himself. Slowly I back him towards the cornucopia until he has nowhere left to run. I suddenly charge at him, knocking the sword from his hands. He stands backed against the cornucopia as I pick up his fallen weapon and throw it thirty yards behind me. There is only one weapon left in this fight, and it's in my hands.

It's over. I've won.

I take my time before throwing my knife at the still target of Martin, but he manages to duck at the last moment and my knife embeds itself up to the handle in the golden metal behind him. Before I can do anything, he charges at me, knocking me to the floor.

So, this is what it has come down to. An unarmed fight to the death.

_Brilliant._

I know exactly how to win these; I've had so much practice in the Training Centre back home.

The boy is light, and I easily throw him off of me. He finds a way to get to his feet, but I am ready for him. Two quick punches to the side of his head leave him unstable, and a hook my legs around his ankles, dropping him to the floor. He lands hard, and I'm instantly on top of him, applying pressure holds that I could do in my sleep to keep him from striking back.

This was too easy.

I should have had more of a fight. Made more of a spectacle of this. My mentor, Lyme, will want me to keep pressure applied and slowly drag Martin with me until I reach a weapon that I can use to finish the job.

But then suddenly another idea plants itself in my head.

I flip Martin onto his back, yank his head back and lunge at his bare neck, my teeth exposed.

* * *

**A/N: There's no need for a summary here, I'm sure you all know what happens next ;)**

**If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	63. LSF (Lost Souls Forever)

**A/N: Thanks to ThatHufflepuff, mangesboy01, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, richards25, I-am-Cashmere-of-district-one, RealFiction and District4Girl for reviewing!**

**Here's another 'Catching Fire' victor, and one of my personal favourites.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"Ah, oh come on!**

**We've got our backs to the wall!**

**Get on, and watch out!**

**Before you kill us all!"**

**- Tom Meighan, 2004.**

* * *

**The 63rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Cashmere Adlington (15), District 1 Female**

**Kasabian- L.S.F (Lost Souls Forever) (2004)**

* * *

The capsule begins to rise, and I'm plunged into darkness.

It's been a long wait to get this far. I may be young for a Career, but I know that I have potential.

Every tribute from District 1 must survive the trials in our Training Centre to earn the right to compete. Against a field of girls much older than myself, I emerged victorious. Maybe I was foolish to enter the trials at a young age (I could've waited until I was eighteen), but now my decision has been justified. I was the one who survived this year's trials. I've killed before to get this far, and I'm sure that I'll kill again once I'm in the arena for real.

And the reason I'm doing this?

_My brother._

We both joined the Training Centre at the same time, although it was clear from the start that he was a notch above the other trainees. I'm almost certain that there's a victor within him somewhere. But my twin brother and I should never have to enter the arena together. That would be torture in more ways than one.

That's why I volunteered my name for the trials early. Gloss, at just fifteen, is above anyone in the years older than him. I knew he wouldn't think to volunteer his name any earlier than sixteen (only one fifteen-year-old has won the Games, and that wasn't due to their own merit). I may only be just over fifteen, but I'm talented with ranged weapons. Maybe I'll lose with strength, but I don't need it to win.

Well, that's half the reason why I volunteered early. It's true that I planned to enter the Games without my brother, but I did this partly so that I would be remembered first. District 1's got a tonne of potential victors coming through in the next few years. I may be the first of a long line. Among others, I may not be remember, but if I can say that I was the first... Well, that's something to brag about. Any why be a victor if you can't claim the glory?

I'm certain this'll be the start of a big era for District 1. There's myself and my brother, who will hopefully both win the Games. There aren't many promising girls, but there's a couple of lads that give Gloss a run for his money. And, oddly enough, they aren't older than him. Maybe he has the edge on strength, but there's an expert swordsman in the year below us; Gabriel, I believe his name is. His time will come in a few years. And the archer in the year below him, who I've seen around the District. He looks deadly, too. Give them a few years, and they'll be victors in their own right.

But my time is now.

I come out into the arena, which seems to be fairly simple. We start on our pedestals, which stand alone in a large lake. The water looks calm and cooling all around us, and the summer sun beats down from above. It's a good thing we've been given jumpsuits to wear. Forty yards in front of me (and all the other tributes, in fact) is the golden horn that is the cornucopia, standing alone on a small sandy island above the lake, calling out to me like a beacon. That is where I need to be as soon as the action starts.

_It's a good thing I can swim._

Looking around the arena, I quickly spot the other Careers; my allies. My district partner, a clumsy and useless (for a Career, of course) boy of seventeen called Glamour. I doubt he'll be much use for long. Around the pedestals,I see my other two allies, the tributes of District 2, ready to swim to the cornucopia. We aren't allied with District 4; their two tributes were young (although one is the same age as me), and neither showed any real skill. They'll be as easy as all the others to kill off, when their time comes.

Suddenly the gong sounds, and I dive quickly into the water. I try to swim as quickly as I can, but I'm disappointed to find that I'm the fourth tribute to reach the island. As I pull myself to my feet, the boy from District 4 is already launching himself back into the water, a backpack on his back and a longsword in his hand. Cursing my bad luck to be stuck in a water-based arena without District 4 as allies, I turn my attention back to the cornucopia, which I reach at the same time as the boy from District 2, Gaius. I follow him into the cornucopia, where all the supplies are hoarded. He ignores the supplies at first, heading straight for the weapons, where he silently picks up a short swords and heads outside, where the few tributes who were brave enough to venture to the cornucopia are just coming ashore. Soon, painful screams fill the air as the first victims of the 63rd Games are cut down. I avert my attention to the weapons, hoping to find anything - knives, daggers, axes, spears, whatever - that I can throw, but eventually, a reflex bow hidden away in a corner catches my eye. Grabbing a quiver of twelve arrows with it, I exit the cornucopia just as I see Gaius cut clean through the girl from District 4.

_Well, that's one threat dealt with._

I'm pleasantly surprised that not many tributes have arrived at the cornucopia at all, and with four already lying bleeding in the sand, I shoot my first arrow through the neck of the boy from Five, who's the only tribute left standing apart from the four Careers. However, the cannons don't sound, so the bloodbath is not yet over.

Looking out from the cornucopia across the lake, I realise that although a few tributes have swam away to the steep cliffs (or, on the other side, verdant woodland), many tributes are still rooted to the spot, stuck on their pedestals.

Slowly and calculatingly, I shoot them down, one by one. My accuracy is not brilliant, and so some tributes aren't hit cleanly, and they flounder in the water, injured. It takes a few minutes for these injured tributes to fall below the water for a final time.

Listening to the cannons fire, I smile, satisfied with my performance thus far in the Games. Maybe my actions have been merciless and brutal, but nobody is going to win the Games by just being a pretty face, are they?

* * *

**The 63rd Games were unusual for a variety of reasons. Firstly, many of the high-scoring tributes died at the cornucopia victim to Cashmere's bow. Three of the tributes that she killed had scored higher than seven, and one of them, the boy from District 8, had been joint favourite to win the Games prior the bloodbath.**

**Another interesting fact about the Games was that the entire Career Alliance was almost stopped by a single tribute; the boy from District 4, Rhys. Having killed both the male Careers by staying in his comfort zone around the lake, and picking off tributes who strayed too close to him. Fourteen tributes were killed during the Games by Rhys and Cashmere alone.**

**With just two Careers left, Cashmere and the girl from Two split peacefully, and two days later, the girl from two killed off Rhys, the last non-Career threat, taking the number of tributes down to five.**

**At this stage, the Gamemakers raised the level of the lake, flooding the low-lying woodland and forcing the five remaining tributes to climb up the steep hills to large flat, high plateau that made up the other half of the arena. Being a large open, space, the three tributes who survived the flood (Cashmere, the girl from Two and the girl from Seven) were forced to confront each other almost immediately. Cashmere, who now used throwing knives scavenged from the body of the boy from District 6, killed off the other two girls before they could get within range of her, crowning Cashmere Adlington of District 1 the victor of the 63rd Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed today's chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I'm sure some of you probably noticed some minor foreshadowing for some of my other stories in this chapter ;)**

**P.S. My second competition, for the victor of the 69th Hunger Games, is likely to fraw to a close within the next week, so if you're still looking to submit a chapter, there is time, but it is quickly running out. Basically, if you want to enter, you need to get a move on :)**

**I'll be looking forward to your entries :)**


	64. Wishing Well

**A/N: Thanks to nevergone4ever, Bubbubboo, KidWithTheFace, District4girl, ThatHufflepuff, OxenStierna D. Yuki-Rin, richards25, Kman528 and mangesboy01 for reviewing! :)**

**Those of you who read the last chapter (I assume most of you did) should know who's coming with this one :)**

**As ever, I hope you enjoy today's chapter, set during the 64th Games :)**

**"Throw down your gun, you might shoot yourself**

**Or is that what you're trying to do?**

**Put up a fight you believe to be right**

**And someday the sun will shine through."**

**- Paul Rodgers, 1973.**

* * *

**The 64th Annual Hunger Games**

**Gloss Adlington (16), District 1 Male**

**Free- Wishing Well (1973)**

* * *

"Hoods up, everyone. It's starting to get cold."

Five of us patrol the forest slowly together, all of us Careers. Myself and my inferior district partner, both from two and the girl from Four. The lad from District 4 might have been old, but he wasn't trained. He was completely useless.

The sun sets across the arena through the snowy pine trees and for once I realise how much effort the Gamemakers have used to make sure that we all die in a place of natural beauty. But, of course, I'm not going to die. If my older sister can survive this, then I can too.

I say that Cashmere is older, but there's only fourteen minutes between us. She was still the youngest victor the Games have ever seen by over five months. She's made herself unforgettable in her own way.

Now it's up to me to do one better.

I guess it comes from a long-lasting sibling rivalry and a desire for glory that most District 1 teenagers have, but I know that I have to do anything in my power to become the more memorable twin. I can't be the younger victor, but I can kill more tributes. I can win faster. I can be more merciless. I can be more talented. I can be the greatest of them all.

I smile when I think of that. _Gloss Adlington, the greatest Hunger Games victor of all time_. It's got quite a nice ring to it, actually. Of course, it's unlikely, but I do want to be remembered, just like the true legends; Cicero Turner, Fraser Reynolds, Arturo Foster, Molly Higgins, Amadeus and Brutus Cato. The list goes on, but I want my name to up there with the very best.

"Hey, Adlington! Stop daydreaming and give us a hand searching!"

I come to my senses realising that the sun has already set, and that everyone else has their electric torches in their hands, scouring the woods for unsuspecting tributes. Unfortunately, this night seems to drag on, as even we are all searching and there are fifteen tributes alive in the arena, we don't seem to be able to find anyone. Maybe everyone else has huddled up warm and slept for the night, due to the bitterly cold night-time temperatures in this snowy arena. Whatever the reason behind it is, it comes as a relief when we see a figure darting in between the trees in the distance.

It's easy to follow them (him, more specifically, we realise as we close in on the tribute) due to their footprints being left in the fresh snow. They have nowhere to hide.

Eventually, after ten minutes chasing them through the woods, the tribute finally seems to run out of energy, and tries to climb a tree to escape us. It would seem to be a clever idea at first, as many big, strong, heavy Careers would be unable to climb high in the trees, but luckily the girl from District 2 is good with a bow. She shoots at the boy effortlessly, and an arrow flies into his leg, causing the boy to fall from the tree and land at our feet, shouting out due to the pain.

I find that I quickly recognise the boy.

It's Martius of District 4. The boy who wasn't good enough.

The boy from District 2 and my district partner pull him to his feet and throw him against the trunk of the tree that he fell from, pinning him to it.

"Leave him to me, guys," I say with authority as I walk up to the boy, who is struggling to break free of my allies grasp, but the girls from Two and Four grab his ankles, meaning that my four allies are holding a limb each. The boy has absolutely no chance of escape.

Suddenly, I have an idea.

Slowly and tauntingly, I reach to my belt and pull a dagger from it. Daggers are my weapon of choice, as stealth is my greatest strength. I haven't had a chance to use it yet, but at least I can put the blades to another use in the meantime. My idea will only work with a long blade, so I choose my longest; nine inches. I turn it over a couple of times in my right hand and walk right up to Martius, so that our faces are only a few inches apart. I can look right into his pupils and see the fear in his eyes.

"It's a pity you weren't good enough for us," I taunt with a cocky, victorious smile on my face. Then I take a moment to prepare myself before plunging the dagger into his neck with all the force that I can muster. Luckily for me, it slices straight through him and I feel the blade embed itself in the wood behind. Martius makes a quiet gargling noise as he tries to scream through his broken vocal cords, but no sound passes from his throat. His pupils dilate for a few moments, bulging in pain, before rolling up into the top of his head, quite dead.

The cannon signals the end of my job here, and my four allies let go of the body, but it does not fall. Held into the place by the dagger driven into the tree trunk, Martius' corpse still hangs in the air, the look of pain and fear still plastered across his face.

For the first time, I've shown the whole world what type of tribute I am.

_Beat that, Cashmere._

* * *

**As the Games wore on, the four surviving Careers (the girl from Two was turned on by her allies after being injured by the girl from District 6) split by mutual agreement. Eventually, by the tenth day, four tributes remained; both from District 1, the boy from Two and the girl from District 4. The Gamemakers called a feast for the morning of the twelfth day, hoping to bring about the end of the Games.**

**At the feast, Gloss won the Games in a remarkable and unique way.**

**Gloss arrived at the cornucopia the night before the feast, where no other tribute were. He spent the night camped out inside the cornucopia, and used his stealth to remain hidden while the other three Careers fought over supplies outside. Eventually, only one other tribute remained (the girl from District 4, who had been severely injured by the boy from District 2's sword) and Gloss chose this moment to reveal himself and take the final kill, leaving him to become the victor of the 64th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**Also, we're one follower away from 50! (hint hint) ;)**

**Now, unfortunately and annoyingly, I'm going to have to move the closing date forward for my second competition, due to unforseen impracticalities, to Friday 26th July (two days' time). I'm sorry to have to announce this, but it's either this or I'm not with a computer for at least a fortnight, and you'll be waiting weeks (literally) for chapter 69.**

**I'm sorry to announce this, but there really isn't much I can do about it.**

**Thanks to anyone who has already taken time to enter a chapter in the competition, and I look forward to any last minute entries.**

**Again, I apologise sincerely for any inconveniencies.**

**GM97 :)**


	65. Can't Stand Losing You

**A/N: Thanks to Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ArtistatHeart, District4girl, nevergone4ever, ThatHufflepuff, RealFiction and richards25 for reviewing! As ever, I appreciate your support :)**

**On another positive note; we've passed TWENTY THOUSAND VIEWS, which is just massive, so thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to read, review, follow and favourite this story so far. We've still got quite a few chapters to go, too :)**

**I would also like to point out that while I may be away from my computer for a couple of weeks, I'll still be posting chapters. It's difficult to do on an iPod, but I've done it before, and I'll do it again :)**

**Anyway, on to today's chapter, featuring the one and only Finnick Odair, the youngest victor of all time.**

**I hope you enjoy it :)**

**"I've called you so many times today**

**And I guess it's all true what their girlfriends say**

**That you don't ever want to see me again**

**That your brother's gonna kill me and he's six feet ten."**

**- Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner, 1978.**

* * *

**The 65th Annual Hunger Games**

**Finnick Odair (14), District 4 Male**

**The Police- Can't Stand Losing You (1978)**

* * *

I wake in the branches of an oak tree, and I'm not surprised to see a shiny silver parachute hanging in the tree above me. Smiling, I reach up and free the small capsule from the tangled sheets of fabric that delivered it to me. Opening the capsule, I see a small tin pot. I unscrew the lid and think some sort of thick cream inside. It's definitely medicine of some sort. Antiseptic cream, I guess.

I take some of the cream out and rub it on my injured knee. It feels like it's been doused in icy water.

_Perfect._

Hopefully some of the swelling will disappear soon. The wound is still fresh, but as long as I can avoid infection, I should be fine. The cream appears to have some sort of painkiller in it, as I find it easily and relatively pain-free to clamber down the tree to the ground. I pull down my sleeping bag with me, and stuff it into my backpack. I reach back into the branches of the tree to pull down my bow and four arrows that I scavenged from the body of the boy from District 7 yesterday. My first kill in the arena, and it was on the seventh day.

Right from the beginning, I never wanted to join the Career Alliance. I pretended that I would, of course, hanging about with the other Careers in training, making sure to use my good looks to my advantage, winning sponsors and impressing my supposed allies. But I was never trained as a Career, and I don't want to become one. I've never really been trained, but for a few afternoons at home with my best friend, down at the beach.

It wasn't even proper training. But we both knew that if either of us were reaped, we at least needed to know something that would be of use to us in the arena.

That's why, when it came to the reaping, I volunteered for him. I knew more. I was stronger, taller, fitter. I stood a better chance of surviving that he did. The trained Careers weren't going to volunteer for him, of course. Even trained Careers don't stand a very good chance of survival. In my district, they only volunteer for absolute no-hopers; those aged twelve and thirteen. A small fourteen-year-old might have stood a chance in the eyes of the Careers, but in my eyes, a 1% chance of survival sounded like a death sentence. Maybe my chances weren't much better at the time, but they were still an improvement. So I volunteered.

Now, eight days into the 65th Annual Hunger Games, I'm certain that I made the right decision.

I was the first to the cornucopia that Sunday morning when the Games began, one week after I volunteered myself at the reaping. I'd become popular. A combination of my looks (which won over the female half of the population) and my training score of nine (which won over the male half) had put me miles ahead of any other tribute in the race for sponsors.

Having been the first to arrive at the cornucopia, I was also the first to leave, having grabbed a large backpack full of supplies. I'd abandoned my so-called allies before they even knew what had happened.

That rucksack gave me everything - plentiful food and water, a sleeping bag, a thick coat, medicine, matches, absolutely _everything_ - but a weapon. For a while, it looked as though my plan had backfired. I was alone and weaponless in the arena.

But I realised that I had everything I needed to survive. I would be able to sit out the storm. As long as the Capitol audience still loved me, I figured it'd only be matter of time before the sponsors sent me a weapon.

By the seventh day, with only eight tributes left alive, I was still weaponless. In an arena made exclusively of deciduous woodland, it was easy to stay hidden. I moved every morning to avoid becoming complacent in one place, and it was yesterday morning when my luck finally ran out.

I don't want to remember the details, but let's just say that killing another person isn't all that the Careers build it up to be. I can't help but think about the atrocious things I had to do, and the expression on the face of the boy from District 7 just before his cannon fired. He may have injured me, but somehow I made it out alive.

Not only did I make it out alive, but I made it out with his weapon, too.

Now, as I start my walk to relocate this morning, I move with more confidence. I can protect myself now. That doesn't mean that I'm going to go out hunting tributes the way the Capitol audience might expect me to, but I'm no ordinary Career. Well, I'm not really a Career at all. But yesterday I showed my brutal side, a side I didn't even know I had, and I'm sure that the sponsors will think even more highly of me than ever before.

It's mid-morning when I get the next parachute.

I've lost track of how many parachutes I've had - it's well into double figures - but something about this one seems different. The package beneath is larger than most and shaped irregularly. I watch it drift down from the sky and land with a thud at my feet. I unwrap it from the silky fabric of the parachute eagerly, and then stand up to admire what lies at my feet.

It's a trident.

No, it's not _a_ trident.

It's _my_ trident.

I'm almost certain of it immediately, just from judging its length and looking at the various knocks on it from years of use. It's not a perfect gift, like those from the Capitol, but one of the rare times that the districts fetch up enough money to offer something for their tribute themselves.

I pick up the trident, its silver metal flashing in the summer sun. Just the way that it's weighted feels familiar. I don't need to check the bottom for my initials, but I still do.

I hold the base of the trident into the sun and read the three letters on the bottom, roughly carved into the base by a ten-year-old Finnick Odair with his best friend's carving knife. I can still see the mistakes I made, and where my friend had to help me out. He was always more dexterous than I was, and he had to do the whole 'O' for me.

_F.R.O._

I smile as I read the initials, a reminder of the home I had before the Games. Of those who stuck with me throughout my childhood, and who still stick with me to this day by sending me this trident.

I know that only one person could have sent this to me. I find it slightly ironic that after I volunteered to save him at the reaping, he's saved me by providing me with the tools that will get me home.

_Thank you, Ludo._

* * *

**The 65th Games lasted ten days. When Finnick Odair received his trident on the morning of the eighth day, there were still seven tributes alive. All five Careers were still alive (although their alliance had split) along with Finnick and the thirteen-year-old girl from District 3.**

**Along with his new trident, Finnick managed to craft himself a net to use from vines he found on a tree by a lake that afternoon. From then, it took two days for the Games to end.**

**In a relatively small arena, Finnick hunted down the Careers one by one, killing them all with his new weapon. The final fight was short and anticlimactic compared to those that had gone before, and Finnick ended the Games with an easy kill, at the expense of the girl from District 3, crowning Finnick Odair of District 4 the victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games.**

**During the 65th Games, Finnick set an all-time record as the youngest victor ever, at fourteen years and two months old, eleven months younger than the previous record-setter, Cashmere Adlington of District 1.**

**The 65th Games also saw the most expensive sponsor gift of any Hunger Games in Finnick's trident, which was delivered to him from District 4 for an extortionate price.**

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed today's chapter, please review! As ever, I'll welcome any constructive criticism :)**

**Personally, I think that chapter has set me up quite nicely for tomorrow's chapter, which I've been waiting for nearly five months to write :)**

**P.S. There's one day left for the competition, so if anyone else is hoping to enter, you'd better do so quickly! ;)**


	66. Dry Ice

**A/N: Thanks to Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, RealFiction, ThatHufflepuff, mangesboy01, richards25, Flintlightning, District4girl, nevergone4ever and beauthg for reviewing!**

**For those of you who don't know (I imagine that's quite a few of you), the 66th Games is the setting for my first fanfic, 'Second Time Unlucky', from which this chapter is based.**

**Due to the rules and guidelines on this site, I can't use anything from 'Second Time Unlucky' in this chapter, and that causes me a few problems. Because I can't really add an event during the Games, this chapter might fall down a little as a chapter on its own, but I hope that it interests you enough for you to give 'Second Time Unlucky' a read to find out more.**

**Any of you who have already read my version of the 66th Games will understand that I'm eager to write this :)**

**P.S. If you hadn't guessed already, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS.**

**"Late last night I had a dream, and she was in it again**

**She and I were in the sky, flying hand in hand**

**I woke up in a cold sweat, wishing she was by my side**

**Praying that she'll dry the tears, left on my face I've cried."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1989.**

* * *

**The 66th Annual Hunger Games**

**Ludovic Robertson (15), District 4 Male**

**Green Day- Dry Ice (1989)**

* * *

I just have time to see Julia wave at me before the capsule closes and I'm transported up into darkness.

Everything is black. I can't see a thing. Oddly, it feels incredibly peaceful. Like the calm before the storm that I know will arrive once I've entered the arena. For a few moments I have the opportunity, for what potentially could be the last time ever, to remember.

My name is Ludovic Robertson.

I am from District 4, and I am fifteen years old.

I am a tribute in the 66th Annual Hunger Games.

I am one of very few people in all of Panem to be reaped twice.

Looking back, I could have expected it. When Finnick volunteered for me at the reaping last year, he cheated the Capitol out of watching me suffer. Considering that my actions during the Games led to Finnick's dominant victory, it seems a little to coincidental that two of Finnick's best childhood friends have been reaped this year.

But I don't want to think about my district partner, Maddie. I can't afford to. Not now, after all these years. It might be better for me just to forget. But I don't want to, I won't.

Pushing my love to the back of my mind, I think about the events that have happened since the reaping.

Along with Finnick (he was chosen as my mentor) I was transported to the Capitol. My stylist Julia helped me to make a good impression on the first night in the Capitol at the opening ceremony. If I do say so myself, I guess I'm one of the favourites in the race for sponsors.

After that, I became a member of the Career Alliance. I might have had even less training than Finnick had before me, but I've got skill with knives; enough to score me an eight in training and book my place in the Career Alliance.I would adopt Finnick's strategy, but it's unlikely to work two years in a row, and I haven't got Finnick's physical prowess to help me pull it off. Even if it somehow worked, I'm sure the Gamemakers would put a stop to me before I won, anyway. They won't let the Games seem repetitive.

Thinking about the Gamemakers, there's a new Head Gamemaker this year; Tiberius Greenwood. That makes this year's arena even less predictable than usual. I've no idea where I'm about to end up.

I may not know where I'm heading, but I do know who I'm heading there with.

The other twenty-three tributes of this year's Games are an interesting bunch, to say the least.

Of course, there are the obvious Career types, Quintus Cato of District 2 stands out along with the girls from One and Two, Pearl and Remora. Then there's Robin Hurst of District 1, who I believe to be the underdog of the Career Pack; he's an insanely good archer (I've never seen better in the Games themselves than Robin's performance in training. I don't know how he only got a ten in training. He deserves more.

Outside of the Careers, many of the tributes are young, inexperienced and frightened, although a few stand out. There's two siblings from District 7; Blaine and Isabella Maguire. Their training scores were slightly better than average, I recall. Aside from that, i know nothing of them, but I know for sure that they'll be allied. I think they are the first brother and sister team in any Hunger Games in history. Then again, I might be mistaken; I've not seen all sixty-five Hunger Games on television, although I bet I've seen more than fifty.

Moving on from District 7, the highest-scoring non-Career is the boy from District 9; he's the tallest and strongest tribute in the arena, which is enough to compensate for his negligible training. If the arena favours him, he'll be a real threat.

Another even more dangerous tribute (potentially) is the girl from District 12; Sophia. She stood out (along with Quintus, Maddie and myself) at the opening ceremony, but none of us saw paid any attention to her until she scored an eight in training, and by then it was too late. I have no idea what she's capable of.

There's Maddie and myself, the tributes of District 4. Both of us are in the alliance, having both scored eights, despite neither of us having been trained. I don't know whether Maddie's ability is a good thing or not. Yes, thankfully she'll be able to survive by herself, but it increases the chances of the horrendous situation that I want to avoid at all costs:

An all-District 4 showdown as the finale.

I want both of us to get home, although I know deep down that it won't be possible.

But I know that I must find a way.

Just as suddenly as I was plunged into darkness does the bright light of the arena shine down on me as I emerge from the capsule.

Now the Games must begin.

* * *

**A/N: No summary today, I'm afraid. If you want to know the conclusion to this Games, I've written over 80,000 words about it, so you'll be able to cover it in some detail.**

**If you enjoyed today's chapter, then please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. Ludo was wrong about the Maguires being the only siblings to have competed in the same Games. Admittedly, the other siblings competed in the Games thirty-one years before he was born, but he was still wrong.**


	67. Witchcraft

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, richards25, DigbyThompson, RealFiction, That Hufflepuff, Flintlightning and Kman528 for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I'm just going to say this so that everyone understands:**

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR 'MENTOR'.**

**I am still trying to finish 'Mentor', but I know that many more people are interested in seeing this completed than my other stories (over 85% voted for this in the poll on my profile), and I serve to please you, the readers, with this story. I'm not completely abandoning 'Mentor' (I will eventually complete it), but it's being postponed for the foreseeable future.**

**Anyway, on to today's chapter. I hope you enjoy it :)**

**"He's coming and she knows it**

**Even if she knows why**

**Footsteps in the hallway**

**Girl, you haven't got time**

**You've got to get out**

**Go far away."**

**- Rob Swire, 2010.**

* * *

**The 67th Annual Hunger Games**

**Johanna Mason (16), District 7 Female**

**Pendulum- Witchcraft (2010)**

* * *

I drop to the ground as quickly and quietly as I can as soon as I hear footsteps approaching.

I'm used to doing this; even though this is only the second evening of the Games, I've had to drop to the floor (it's the best, if slightly risky, chance of concealing yourself) several times to avoid being spotted already. It's annoys me to keep having to back out of fights like this, but it is the only way to keep up my strategy.

The Games so far have been interesting to say the least. After last year's fiasco of a Career Alliance, I don't think many of the Careers were as keen to join up. Two separate groups have formed, with the girl from District 1 going it alone. This has both merits and disadvantages. While there may be supergroup of Careers, they will be more spread out, and the chances of running into just one of them have been vastly increased. Even one on one, the chance of survival against a Career is very low.

I'd be temped to say that out of the rest of the field, I stand the best chance of anyone of defeating a Career in an even fight. My strongest weapon is the one-handed combat axe, but I'm versatile. I can defend myself with any type of small, one-handed weapon; something that I proved yesterday at the cornucopia.

The arena is something completely different this year.

The cornucopia sits in a ring of dry, dusty dirt, which is ringed by steep, smooth cliffs. Out of the cliffs are several openings, which lead to a maze of dark, narrow tunnels, where there is no light, no heat and little water. It's not the kindest arena for tributes, but it is fair on everyone.

The supplies at the cornucopia were extremely generous. Running in towards the cornucopia, I managed to grab a short dagger and a large backpack before turning to flee.

However, this part of my plan wasn't so easy to complete.

Running away from the cornucopia, I strayed into the path of Gabriel, the boy from District 1, who was armed with a longsword. Gloss has been bragging about his tribute's ability all week, and I can tell you now that he was not lying. I knew that my fight was always in vain, but I'm surprised at how long I managed to hold on with just a dagger. Still, I was finally defeated, a large gash in my left thigh being the result of the confrontation.

Everything was a bit blurry after that, but somehow I managed to pick myself up and escape the bloodbath alive.

In my backpack, I found a pair of night-vision glasses, that I've used to spot tributes up ahead and lie low, sticking to my strategy ever since. I don't know how, but my mentor Timothy managed to get me medicine yesterday evening. Maybe the price of medicine was still low enough to be worth it, or my skill and resolve in my fight with Gabriel has earned me more sponsors than I expected.

But either way, my leg has recovered. I might not be a full recovery, but I'm able to move comfortably now. I'm able to use my plan to its full extent now; score low in training to avoid attracting attention, and make sure to only kill when I'm a hundred percent certain of it. Nobody alive should know of my skill. I'll be a hidden threat. Until I choose my moment to fight, I can use my night-vision goggles to stay out of harm's way.

And that's exactly what I'm doing now.

I'm at a point where two tunnels have joined but run parralel to each other, one higher up than the other. From my height, I can look down and see a ten-foot drop to another pathway. If it wasn't for my night-vision glasses, I could've suffered quite a nasty fall.

I see the light of an electric torch shine along the lower platform, and I notice three figures walk down the tunnel towards me.

The first, and one of two boys holding torches, is the boy I fought at th cornucopia, Gabriel Samson, disputably the favourite to win the Games, I need to stay out of his way. He's tall and strong, like many of the Careers, but his long black hair that often sweeps across his eyes gives him a far more sinister, imposing look than the others. He carries a longsword in his free hand and is in conversation with his two current allies.

The boy (or man) in the centre is Alec Flood, the stereotypical District 4 Career. He's also armed with a sword and was the only tribute to match Gabriel in training. He seems peaceful enough now, making jokes with his allies, but I know he's as deadly as they come. He killed another volunteer at the reaping in order to get here.

The third boy is my district partner, Vincent, who I loathe for abandoning the outlying districts and joining the infamous Careers. He may deserve it, but he's crossed the line by accepting their advances. Few would dare conspire against their own district, as Vincent may well end up doing.

Regardless of who they are as people, I know that they scored a cumulative goal of thirty-one in training. As for me, I only have four points to my name. I may in reality be worth eight or nine, but that is still no match for the three young men walking along the lower passage beneath me.

I quickly drop to the floor, but I am too fast for my own good, smashing my chin into the ground. I'm unable to stop myself from crying out in pain, but I instantly clasp my hands obey my mouth, angry with myself for making such quick movements.

"What was that?" Vincent calls out below me as the three boys look around, confused. Peering over the edge of my ledge, I can see them looking up and down their passageway, clearly confused as to where the noise could have come from, but neither Gabriel nor Vincent shine their torches upwards, so my passageway, and thus my hiding place remain hidden.

"I've no idea," replies Gabriel, confused. "There's nothing this way, Vincent," he says, shining his torch on ahead.

"There's nothing behind us, either," Vincent replies, shining his torch down the passageway that they had just walked along. "Maybe it was nothing," he muses.

"Well, whatever it was, it's not here now," Gabriel concludes, looking back at his allies. "Come on, we should keep moving."

With that, Gabriel leads the way down the tunnel, and Vincent follows. For a few moments, Alec stays still, as though he is thinking. I can tell that he is deep in thought by his vacant expression, and then he looks up at what I'm sure he presumes to be the roof of the tunnel.

But instead, he stares directly into my eyes.

For a moment I feel his eyes pierce me until I realise that despite our eyes being less than ten feet apart, he can't see me. I slip off my night-vision glasses silently and realise that there is no sign that he is there at all. I can only just see the ground that I lie on, peeking down at the boy below me.

Putting my glasses back on, I see that Alec hasn't moved. If only he had a torch, he would be able to see me. I'm sure that he'd be able to find a way up to me if he knew. I may have survived Gabriel once, but I doubt I'd be able to survive another Career attack.

But thankfully Alec doesn't have a torch, and so I know that I am perfectly safe.

Then the boy from District 4 shakes his head and runs off after his allies, leaving me alone in the arena once again.

* * *

**A/N: Again, I'm not writing a summary for this one. I may have revealed the victor of 'Mentor', but I'm giving nothing else away about the storyline. You'll have to wait and find out what happens, if you're interested :)**

**Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. I will try to update 'Mentor' soon, although I can't guarantee anything.**


	68. Over the Hills and Far Away

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, richards25, Deedledum, RealFiction, krikanalo, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, NewbornCrown15 and District4girl for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"Many times I've lied - Many times I've listened**

**Many times I've wondered how much there is to know."**

**- Robert Plant, 1973.**

* * *

**The 68th Annual Hunger Games**

**Johan Hurst (17), District 1 Male**

**Led Zeppelin- Over the Hills and Far Away (1973)**

* * *

The pedestal stops rising, but the darkness remains.

I swing my arms around me, and I realise that I'm out in the open somewhere, where the air feels cool but not cold. I'm dressed in clothes that seem distinctly normal, so I'm not expecting extreme climates. I can hear the rustlings of other tributes moving around nervously on their pedestals, so I know that I'm not alone. Looking down, I can't even see my hands, so I've no idea what this arena looks like.

I'm just about adjusting to the minimal light when something flickers above, dazzling me. Then the arena is filled with a yellowing light from above as the gong sounds.

I panic, holding my hands to my eyes as I stagger blindly towards where I believe the cornucopia to be. The sudden bright light has kept all of us in the dark, as none of us dare expose our eyes to our illuminated surroundings. As I begin to peek through the gaps between my fingers, I can see that we're currently inside what appears to be a very large sports hall. I can't see the four walls (they extend that far), but I can see the polished wooden floor criss-crossed with every colour of lines and the high roof, with metallic lighting arrangements hanging from them, that I still have to squint to get a proper look at.

The cornucopia doesn't exist in its usual form, either. There is no structure, just a golden circle on the floor, ten yards wide and stacked sky-high with supplies. Looking around me, very few tributes have moved from their starting pedestals, still struggling to overcome the bright light. Even some of the Careers appear to becompletely incapacitated by it.

I'm one of the first two tributes to arrive at the makeshift cornucopia, the other being the boy from District 3. He's three years my younger, and I throw him to the floor as he launches himself at me, unarmed. I don't know why he made such a rash decision, but I can't really pursue him much further without leaving the supplies open for others to steal. Turning back to the supplies, I pick a large green backpack and sling it onto my back. Climbing up the pyramid of supplies, I look for a decent weapon.

I quickly make up my mind.

My eyes find a sliver reflex bow sticking out of the mound, which I clamber towards, pulling it free from other supplies. To me, it seems to be the perfect weapon.

My brother always said that archery was an art. For him, it certainly seemed to be. I remember back to my childhood years when he'd often be up at dawn to train. Back in those early years, archery was just a hobby to him; something that he'd do to break the monotony and struggle of district life. I'm not sure if archery training was illegal, but if it was, the Peacekeepers turned a blind eye to it, thankfully.

He might never have admitted it, but Robin was always unbelievably talented. There was always a grace to him when he trained. I wasn't the only one to notice, though; everyone who saw his archery skills connecting with the aura of greatness that seemed to radiate from him. Most of District 1 could see it; he was destined for greatness.

As he entered his teenage years, archery turned from a hobby into a sport. I remember him competing in the archery competitions at school and in our district's Training Centre. He wasn't a trainee Career - he was never a violent child (he was an artist at heart) - so he only went to the Training Centres for the competition. Still, he was nearly always victorious. I remember him going up to the Training Centre when he was thirteen for a competition. He was against some real heavyweights; trainees who'd had hundreds of hours of preparation, including future Career tributes such as the Adlington twins and Gabriel Samson, as well as others around his age, such as a pair of girls called Lustre and Emerald, who did excellently for their age.

But I watched my brother Robin beat them all.

The Training Centre was after him ever since that day. They wanted to make a Career of him, but he wasn't interested. He was never a killer. But over time, his archery became a method of self defence as much it was a sport, until a sixteen-year-old Robin Hurst found himself reaped for the 66th Annual Hunger Games.

That year, we were all extremely confident, until we saw the District 2 reaping. Quintus Licinius Cato, the son of Brutus and my brother's eventual murderer, was reaped.

It horrified me to watch my peaceful brother turn into a killer in the arena, but he was surviving, and that was the most important thing.

He placed fifth, in the end. Killed when his own weapon turned against him, shot unsuspectingly by Quintus Cato.

The whole district mourned the loss of a childhood prodigy, but Panem moved on, and Robin was forgotten. He became another of the faces whose story would never fully be told.

And I feel disgraced by it.

As I hold the sliver bow in my hands atop the pyramid of supplies at the cornucopia, I realise the full implications of what I am doing. I haven't even touched a bow since Robin's death, out of respect for my fallen sibling. I was never as talented as he was before, and I doubt my skills will have miraculously improved since then. But as I pull a quiver of ten arrows from the supply pyramid, I know that there is no weapon more perfect than this one.

Maybe my use of a bow will bring back memories of my lost brother within the Capitol audience. Maybe they will remember the brilliant young man he was. I'm not using this bow for my own good.

I'm making a personal tribute to my fallen brother. I'm no killer, just as he wasn't, but I will do what's necessary. If this is what it takes to remind the world of what a great person he was, then so be it.

I can almost feel the tears as I pull the first arrow from my quiver, shaking with emotion. I stand atop the pyramid of supplies, selecting my first target.

_This is for you, Robin._

Then I start shooting and I watch the Careers fall, one by one.

* * *

**Fourteen tributes died at the cornucopia on that first day, including five Careers, with Johan Hurst getting nine kills with his bow before disappearing into the arena.**

**The Games then quietened down for a while as most tributes left alive were tributes that had run away from the cornucopia as soon as the gong had sounded on the first day. Of the ten tributes left alive in an infinitely large sports hall, only three had cornucopia supplies. These three tributes (Johan and the girls from Districts 6 and 9) wiped out the remaining tributes within four days, as none of them could put up any defence, and were easily spotted in an empty arena.**

**On the fifth day, the Gamemakers caused the roof to collapse in places, drawing the final three tributes together. Being the only tribute with a ranged weapon, Johan managed an easy victory, defeating the girl from District 9 in the final confrontation of the 68th Annual Hunger Games.**

**During these Games, Johan racked up thirteen kills, the second highest total in Hunger Games history, two below the record fifteen kills set by Brutus Severus Cato twenty-four years earlier.**

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully those of you who have read 'Second Time Unlucky' will appreciate the effort it took to write this one. If you enjoyed it, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	69. Because of You

**A/N: Thanks to krikanalo, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, richards25, Kman528, mangesboy01, DigbyThompson, RealFiction, NewbornCrown15 and Nevergone4ever for reviewing!**

**In response to Nevergone4ever's review, the story concerning the 66th Games, 'Second Time Unlucky', is posted on my profile, if anyone else is interested in reading it.**

**But anyway, on to more important matters; the results of the second competition.**

**Well, this has definitely been a tough decision. Far tougher than the last competition, I think. But eventually, after taking a couple of days to think this through, I have my winner.**

**I hope that you all like QuietConspiracy's winning chapter :)**

**P.S. This chapter, like MJElliot's winning chapter for the 51st Games, is in American English :)**

**P.P.S. QuietConspiracy chose this song, not me :)**

**"Because of you**  
**I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me."**  
**- Kelly Clarkson, 2004**

* * *

**The 69th Annual Hunger Games**

**Bronze Bradley (18), District 1 Male**

**Kelly Clarkson- Because of You (2004)**

* * *

The tube closes around me, leaving me alone with the sound of my heart pounding.

I've never been one for small spaces, but now that I'm here I don't have a say in the matter.

I close my eyes and remember why I'm here.

My mother's words come back to me, words no child should ever have to hear someone say about them, let alone their own parents.

_"You're worthless, weak, disposable, despicable. You don't deserve to live."_

I remember my sister's cruel laugh, egging my mother on. Her words replace my mother's, like a broken soundtrack that you can't take off repeat.

_"You think you're so great don't you?" She does a high-pitched yet cruelly accurate imitation of my nine-year-old voice. "'Look at me, I'm Bronze and I'm so perfect and I want everyone to love me and treat me like a prince. I'll just be a doormat and they can stomp all over me.'"_

Even now, those words still cut, but they weren't the worst things I heard. Those came from the creature who dared to call himself my father. I remember his reaction when I told him throwing knives and maces were going to be my weapons of choice.

_"You think you can handle those girly weapons and call yourself my son?" He chortles, a harsh and rather unpleasant noise. He pins eleven-year-old me to the wall and spits in my face. "Well, you're wrong. Real Bradley men learn the way of the sword and machete, not the way of some sissy weapon you can't even use when someone's towering over you and going to stab you in the heart." He drops me on the cement floor of our wine cellar, not even caring when my arm makes a sickening crack and I wince, holding back the tears. He walks to the cellar door, opens it, and stops to say one last thing to me before he goes. "Guess your mother really did cheat on me to spawn you." The door slams, leaving me more alone than ever._

The kids at school and the Academy didn't help the situation either. Not like I would've entrusted any of them with the gift of my friendship anyways. Who was I to trust someone that may stab me in the back some day, perhaps even literally?

Not like I wanted to volunteer anyways, but if you are selected for this so-called honor, you either go or your family dies. And no matter how much they despised me and treated me like I was nothing, the three of them were the only stable figures in my life.

Being from District 1, I wasn't surprised when my district partner, Treasure, and I were selected to be members of the Careers. I think what shocked the tributes from Two and the boy from District 4 (the only other Careers, seeing as 4's girl was only thirteen and practically useless to us) the most was that Tre and I weren't exactly stereotypes of what our district's Careers were. Tre's short, choppy, and dark hair, blue eyes, and willowy physique only added to her tomboyish nature; on the other hand, I was at least two years older than the rest of the alliance, and I think Serenity, the girl from Two, just about _died _laughing when she found out I preferred throwing knives over spears or swords. She needn't have worried; after all, my knife skills got me an eight in training.

My interview angle was funny, cocky, and charming; while I pulled it off quite well, according to my mentor, my half-finished heart ached for a chance to show Panem the real me.

But all these things are of no consequence now, and I open my eyes just as the plate starts to lift. I look down for an instant, and see that the thin t-shirt that is the only thing protecting my chest from the elements is already soaked from sweat.

Great. I just hope no blood or tears are added to the mix, for both would show weakness and make me the laughingstock of District 1.

As my eyes adjust to the light, I take in my surroundings. The arena is composed of rolling sand dunes as far as the eye can see, save for a small cluster of palm trees hidden almost directly behind the cornucopia. Tre is three spots to my right; Serenity is directly to my left. The other members of my alliance must be on the opposite side of the cornucopia.

Speaking of the giant metal horn, I look to see what's in the mouth. Some crates, several backpacks, assorted weapons, and both my knives and my mace about arm's length apart.

_Perfect._

I suppose Claudius Templesmith makes the announcement for the beginning of the Games. The clock counts down.

_60._

I steal a glance at Serenity, who's focusing in on the lone tomahawk in the mouth. No doubt Tre's doing the same with her sword.

_50._

But suddenly, a wave of doubt rushes over me. Am I really doing the right thing, becoming a Career, bringing the supposed honor to my District?

_40._

Of course I am. I have to live up to the Capitol's expectations, at least through the bloodbath; the longer I'm with the Careers, the more sponsors I get.

_30._

But are sponsors really all they're cracked up to be? And besides, I'm my own person, not some stupid Capitol pet, even if I'm a Career.

_20._

Besides, I can't stand the thought of leaving behind my precious weapons and losing the chance to get some form of supplies.

_10._

But on the other hand, I'm a human being as much as the next tribute. I need to prove I've got some form of a heart, don't I?

_5._

Oh, who am I kidding? My heart is scarred, broken, chipped beyond repair from the years of emotional suffering my so-called friends and family put me through.

_0._

And there's the gong. I run to the cornucopia, and am there third only behind Serenity and the little blond girl from Six.

I ignore the little girl and dive for my mace and the pack of throwing knives. There's a utility belt with room for the knives; I grab that, too.

A whizzing noise passes by my ear, followed by a quiet sound of cloth ripping. I look up and see an arrow impaling one of the backpacks; the girl from District 6 is surely the culprit, seeing as she's the only one I remember picking up a crossbow during training. Perhaps that's how she earned her score, which was only two points below mine.

I turn around, and without thinking I take a knife and throw. The arrow-user falls, and I realize that is in fact the little girl from District 6.

I should feel guilty that my first kill is something so small, young, and innocent; I don't. She was obviously aiming for the kill when she shot the arrow at me; I did what I had to protect my own life.

The girl from Three's limping over to one of the crates, less than a mace's swing away from where I stand. She's already got a few gashes in her leg, so I lunge forward and swing the mace at her head. She's gone before she hits the sand. _Foolish girl_.

Seven or eight more tributes are nearing the mouth by this point. I don't see Joshua from District 2 yet, but Kaden from Four's got his spears and has already taken down two of the other tributes.

Serenity's battling the girl from District 8; Tre's preoccupied with the boy from Twelve. They'll be fine, seeing as both their opponents are from outer districts, untrained save for the last few days in the Capitol, and at least two years younger than my allies.

Most of the other tributes have taken their supplies. Some have escaped with their lives; most, including the girls from Districts 6 and 3, both of which are my kills, haven't.

Kaden takes down the boy from District 11, making this one's death long, dragged-out, and unusually sadistic for a bloodbath kill. As Kaden twists his victim's head to the side, the boy's eyes lock on mine. In them, I see terror, fury, and accusation; I could be helping him escape instead of standing there useless. Kaden stabs the boy in the neck with a curved blade of some sort and is rewarded with gushing blood and a loss of light in the victim's eyes.

I know now what I must do. As soon as Kaden's back is turned, I grab the nearest pack and run for my life.

As soon as I finish my trek up a sandy dune, I look at the carnage I've left behind. Two tributes are dead because of my actions. It is no matter; soon, many more will be dead, and I don't plan to be among them.

Because of you, District 1, I will not fight with the sadistic Kaden as a true Career would. It is not a path I wish to follow, despite being raised that way.

Because of you, Mom, Dad, and my oh-so-dear-to-me sister Silvera, I will come back and prove that I'm not as worthless as you believe me to be.

Because of you, Capitol citizens, I will survive and promise to make these games interesting without wiping my bloody fingerprint all over it.

And President Snow, it is because of you I'm in this mess. That's all right with me; either way, I'll be out of this hellhole sooner or later.

_Just you wait._

* * *

**The 69th Games had a total of twelve bloodbath deaths, including Joshua from Two and both of Bronze's kills. With Joshua's death and Bronze's abandonment, the three remaining Careers were left to hunt down the remaining competitors who'd scattered throughout the arena.**

**Meanwhile, Bronze found refuge in a second, more secluded oasis and an ally in the boy from District 9, who was skeptical at first but reluctantly agreed when he realized Bronze held the upper hand in both strength and size. Together, Bronze and his ally, Gresham, took out another three competitors before they had a run-in with Treasure and Serenity on the fourth day.**

**The fight was one of the few, if not the first, to ever be censored during the Games for its goriness. In the end, only Treasure and Bronze managed to escape.**

**The seven remaining tributes survived without another death until the Gamemakers set the larger oasis on fire on day seven. The fire killed another three tributes, including Treasure. While Bronze was saddened by his district partner's death, he was also relieved that he wouldn't have to kill her in the finale.**

**Another two days passed before the final tributes (Bronze and Kaden from District 4) were forced together not far from the Cornucopia. Kaden may have been more sadistic and ultimately the better Career, but his hunger and dehydration made him an easy kill for Bronze Bradley, who became the victor of the 69th Annual Hunger Games.**

* * *

**A/N: A review for QuietConspiracy, anyone?**

**I'd also like to point you all in the direction of QuietConspiracy's profile. I'd recommend checking it out, if you're interested in Harry Potter (and really, who isn't?) :)**

**P.S. Normal service will be resumed with the next chapter, where we'll be meeting Annie Cresta :)**


	70. The World I Know

**A/N: Thanks to daydreamer626, beauthg, Kman528, RealFiction, krikanalo, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, NewbornCrown15, District4girl, QuietConspiracy, Flintlighting, Vykktor, Nevergone4ever and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"It might get better in the long run**

**You won't regret it when it's hard won**

**Just don't sweat it when the end comes**

**We all go under."**

**- Colin MacDonald, 2011.**

* * *

**The 70th Annual Hunger Games**

**Annie Cresta (18), District 4 Female**

**The Trews- The World I Know (2011)**

* * *

"No. Let the girl do it."

I stare wide-eyed at Bastian, the boy from District 2, who's ordering me towards the poor boy from Seven, pinned to the tree by my allies.

"She can finish him."

_No, I can't._

Bastian thrusts a short, curved knife with a serrated blade into my hands. It looks so alien when I gaze down at it. But deep down, I know that I've always expected this moment to come.

This is the moment where every tribute has to decide whether or not to become a murderer.

I know so many who have had to make this decision personally. From what I've heard, I expected it to be troubling, but words fail to describe the conflicting emotions inside my head. Fear, anger, pity and anxiety, plus something else that I can't describe.

I hate this.

I already know whose fault it is that I'm having to make this decision. The Capitol has seen my school year of District 4 children to be some kind of wonder-group; many great tributes have sprung from it in the last five years. And I'm here, through no fault of my own (I'm almost certain the reapings were rigged against me) like so many of my friends before me.

Ludo Robertson.

Madelaine Harper.

Grace Tyler.

Now, two of us this year.

And all because Finnick made a name for himself in the Games.

Going into the reaping, I know it would be us. Almost everyone else in our school year turned nineteen months ago. Being born in early August, we were the last chance; still in the reaping bowl, three weeks from nineteen.

Only four days left until my birthday. At this rate, I doubt I'll reach it.

I look up to realise that my allies are staring at me, waiting to see what I'm going to do. I haven't killed yet. I'm sure that my allies want to know that I'm capable; that I'm not dead wood. But I don't know if I can do it. If I don't, someone else will do the job, and no doubt I'll go down with the boy from District 7.

_I can't do it._

How could anyone ever think of killing another. It's a monstrous thing to do; sadistic, barbaric and a waste, more than anything. I remember watching Finnick's and Ludo's Games on television, and seeing the look in their eyes during their battles. Yes, there was fear, and yes, there was the determination that all victors have, but there was something else, that was far darker. Something akin to _enjoyment._

How could anyone become something so monstrous?

Probably because they are making the decision that I am making. It's a Hobson's Choice, really. I have to do it. There is no other way of escaping here.

I take a first nervous step towards the boy, who is still pinned to the tree by the tributes of District 1.

"She doesn't have to do this."

Suddenly Dylan, my twin brother, steps forward and takes the knife out of my hand. I feel saved, and drop to my knees, relieved.

"Any of us can do this," Dylan argues, talking to Bastian. "Why put her through this. It's doing her no good."

"She needs to prove herself," Bastian retorts. "She's useless. She's only here because of your training score. There's ten of us left; we need to filter out the weakest."

I understand Bastian's case. He's right. Sooner or later, I need to kill. Yet my brother still fights my case.

"I'll kill the boy for her," Dylan says. "I'll get the job done." He takes a step towards the boy from Seven, holding up his sword, but Bastian blocks his way.

"No. It must be her."

Dylan turns to face the boy from Two, wearing a cocky smile that I know only too well.

"I'll tell you what," he says, still grinning. "I'll fight you for it. I win, and I kill him. You win, and Annie kills him."

Suddenly I feel my heart drop like a stone. Dylan's made these sort of brash, foolhardy decisions before at home, when he'd pick fights with boys older and stronger than himself to protect his friends. I can remember seeing him get kicked across the school playground with Brandon or Finnick or whoever he'd stepped in to help by older kids regularly when he was just a young child of ten or twelve. For all his merits, his cornered-rat type of courage has never left him. Whether he likes the challenge, or the adrenaline, or he's lusting after honour that he'll never gain, he seems to enjoy these fights. Considering his almost unrivalled intelligence - he's flown through school without an issue, and has a bright career ahead of him - surely he knows that a skinny boy that's barely five and a half feet tall won't win these fights. Picking a fight with a Career is never a wise move, but on the tenth day of the Games, I'm amazed he's resorted to this. I thought these brash challenges were behind him, but apparently not.

On my knees on the ground without a weapon, I'm powerless to intervene as Bastian accepts Dylan's challenge.

"You're on."

This fight may be a trained Career against an overconfident academic, but my brother's courage and determination let's him take the upper hand at first, surprising his opponent. Quickly the tide seems to turn against him, as Bastian comes on the attack with his mace. It only takes Dylan a few more moments to realise that he made a grave mistake by attacking a Career, and he turns to flee, but only runs into Aurelia, Bastian's district partner, who has her sword ready to strike.

I find myself screaming as I flee from the scene, with an after-image of my brother's head on the ground in front of me running round my head.

* * *

**The 70th Games lasted exactly two weeks.**

**With Dylan's death, Annie fled from the Careers on the tenth day, hiding for the remainder of the Games in a remote corner of the arena, scared to venture from a small clearing high up the slopes of the wooded valley that made up the arena.**

**Throughout the Games, there had been earth tremors in the arena, getting progressively stronger throughout the Games. On the thirteenth day, an earthquake led to destruction of much of the woodland, causing an open arena, as the Careers split after winked ing the numbers down to four from seven that day.**

**The following day (Annie's nineteenth birthday), a second, stronger earthquake shattered a large concrete dam at the higher end of the valley, flooding the entire arena. Two tributes were killed by the initial wave of water, leaving Annie and Aurelia, the girl from District 2, floating in the water. It took six hours, but Annie finally became the victor as the last tribute to keep her head above the water in the 70th Annual Hunger Games.**

**Annie Cresta also set a record as the oldest victor of all time, being exactly nineteen years old on the day of her victory.**

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**A/N: If you enjoyed Annie's chapter, please review! As ever, I welcome constructive criticism :)**

**Also, if you're wondering why there's no Finnick/Annie relationship in this chapter, I always imagined that the relationship sprang up as a result of Finnick helping Annie to recover from PTSD after the Games.**

**P.S. I'm going away on holiday for a week again, so I might not have internet connection for a week :/ I'm just warning now that this might be the last chapter until next Saturday. Hopefully it won't be, but I really don't know, unfortunately. **


	71. Eyes Open

**A/N: We're at four hundred reviews, so special thanks go to Ancrazyhyperawesomeidiot, beauthg, Kman528, RealFiction, NewbornCrown15, District4girl, richards25, Deedledum and charliesunshine for reviewing!**

**After having no Internet last week, I'm back now, and I hope to be writing the 74th Games by the end of this week :)**

**This chapter has been written on request of District4girl, and features a character from one of her own stories. This is merely my version of events, based on the information given to me in a review almost twenty chapters ago.**

**Also, District4girl chose the song :)**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**P.S. We're so close to 100,000 words! :D**

**"Dreaming dreams with happy endings**

**In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords**

**But now we've stepped into a cruel world**

**Where everybody stands and keeps score."**

**- Taylor Swift, 2012.**

* * *

**The 71st Annual Hunger Games**

**Victoria Marino (18), District 4 Female**

**Taylor Swift- Eyes Open (2012)**

* * *

"Nice to see you again, District Four," Anna taunts, twenty yards from me across the water. I don't doubt for a second that the girl from District 2 is pleased to run into me.

"I guess it's lucky I ran into you, too," I say with bravado coming from deep within that seems to appeared out of nowhere. Two weeks ago I'd be turning to run, but now my time in the arena has given me courage. Well, it's either that or rendered my brain a complete mess, and the line between bravery and stupidity has been unintentionally crossed.

"Everything alright at your end?" Anna taunts, but I shrug casually as a reply.

"I've been better," I say, but I know that she can see that for herself. My right hand still hides away within the sleeve of my jacket to prevent any further damage. My feet and lower legs are absolutely sodden from spending too long in the murky waters of the swamp that makes up our arena. I know that it's a risk (there are all sorts of terrifying creatures lurking in the water), but that's better than being an open target above ground, especially considering my ability.

I was never trained as a Career back home in District 4. I'm just an average fisherman's daughter. Not poor enough to need to take tesserae, but by no means rich, either. But my age and healthy physique was enough to convince the Careers that they needn't volunteer this year. Even if they have trained for the Games, why risk their lives when I stand a decent chance of winning myself?

It's an odd system, but it's the way that our district works.

So I went intotraining with nothing but whatever natural talent I could coax out of myself. I managed to pull a seven out of it somehow, from showing good physical ability, knowledge at survival stations and some ability with knives that I picked up during the three days of training. It was enough to earn me a place in the alliance with the tributes of Districts 1 and 2 along with my district partner, who was a trained Career.

The Games started well, but not for long.

All six of us survived the cornucopia bloodbath as nine of our number perished on the first day. However, the Gamemakers immediately tried to knock us down a peg, wiping out nearly all of our supplies when they flooded the arena on the third day. The boy from One and my district parnter died in the flood, too. You might not expect a boy from District 4 to drown in a flood, but the Gamemakers had unleashed a force so powerful that it uprooted dozens of trees that scattered the arena, and provided most of the landmass where muddy soil had clung to their roots. Pinned beneath the water by a tree, he had no chance of survival.

All three of us girls survived easily, though, and along with Anna and Madeline (the girl from District 1) we formed a new, smaller alliance. We found the boy from District 2 again the next day, but he was already on his way out by the time that we reached him. He was my first kill in the arena.

In the week that followed, I did my best to disguise my inabilities with weapons while remaining an active member of the group, although my efforts weren't entirely successful. My district partner and I never admitted that I was untrained, although Madeline and Anna started to get suspicious once the food ran out on the seventh day. Careers never spend too long learning survival skills in all their years of training. They are always heavily dependent on the cornucopia supplies. I was the only one who properly knew what to do without any supplies, but I was careful not to reveal too much. We survived from sponsor gifts for a couple of days, but then the money started to run out.

We split when we ran out of water on the tenth day. Madeline died the next day, presumably from dehydration. I've coped on my own, knowing how to scavenge food from what little foliage there is in this desolate, watery arena, and with my latest sponsor gift; iodine solution useful for purifying the swamp water. I'm depleting the supply of it quickly, but for now, I'm safe.

By the time we had split up, the arena was really starting to thin out; just eight of us were left. In the four days that followed, three more of us have fallen; Madeline, the girl from District 6, and the boy from District 10. I ran into the boy from Ten a couple of days back, but neither of us were heavily armed. I had one knife, he had a scythe. Somehow, I killed him. It was the first time I'd ever fought anyone who could actually offer any resistance themselves. Luckily, I delivered a fatal blow when I plunged my knife deep into the boy's chest, but not before he caused serious damage to my right wrist and hand with his scythe. It's lucky that I'm left handed. I fled after that; it was two or three hours later when the boy's cannon finally went off.

And now, two days later, I am about to face off with my former ally. We both stands on small islands of muddy ground, held in place my the mangrove trees that extend over our heads. Between us lies fifteen yards of dark, muddy water; a natural barrier, which has lead to this stalemate. Both of us are armed with melee weapons, as Anna has an axe, whereas I hold the sickle I took from the boy from District 10 in my left hand. Neither of us dares to make the first move towards each other, for the fear of getting bogged down in the swamp. The immobility that would follow would render either of us helpless.

"Should we just get on with this?" Anna calls out impatiently, breaking the silence.

I reply with a nod.

"Yeah."

We both dive at each other at once, flinging ourselves into the swamp. For a moment, my body seems to freeze in the cold water, but I quickly recover control, trying to swing my weapon at my adversary. The water hinders movement too much for the sickle to be of any use, and I soon find myself in a weaponless grapple with my former ally. We tussle with each other, trying to throw the other beneath the water. For a desperate few moments - time seems to lose meaning, it could have been minutes - we are almost even, catching breath whenever possible. I'm taller than Anna, so I find it easier to reach for breath, but she is stronger. Eventually I feel a fist collide with my kneck, causing my windpipe to throb with pain, disorienting me for a moment as another fist collides with my skull, knocking me backwards. Disoriented, I feel a hand grab my hair and yank my head below the water. I kick out in desperation, and somehow find my target, catching Anna in the stomach. As she releases her grip, I take advantage of Anna's misfortune and drag myself towards the bank. I start to crawl up the muddy slope out of the water with my left hand when I feel my sickle beneath my fingertips. I grab it and flip onto my back as I lose balance, just as Anna dives at me.

The sickle impales her body just below the breastbone, pushed onto her by the momentum in her own actions. For a moment, we stare into each other's eyes, and for a brief moment I feel pity for my former ally. Then she falls backwards into the water, sickle and all.

I lie on the bank staring for a few moments before I get my sodden body to its feet and turn to run, never looking back.

* * *

**The 71st Games only lasted two more days after the showdown between the females of Districts 2 and 4. With four tributes remaining, the Games were almost over. The boy from District 11 died on the same day as Anna due to dehydration, and the girl from District 9 was killed the following day, leaving just Victoria and the boy from District 3 alive in the arena.**

**The two never came face to face in the arena, as the Gamemakers chose to finish the Games by introducing alligator mutts the day after the girl from Nine died. In attempting to escape these creatures, Victoria Marino became a victor just as Annie Cresta had done before her; by being the better swimmer.**

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**If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I hope that this lived up to District4girl expectations, as I may have altered some things a little :/ The original story can be found on their profile, if you're interested in seeing the original version of this character (which I'm sure will be very, very different).**

**P.S. I've added the non-winning competition entries from the second story to '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots: The Competition Entries', if any of you want to check those out :)**

**P.P.S. Now that the second competition is over and this story has just a few chapters left, do any of you out there fancy a community project based on this? :) **


	72. Acid Turkish Bath

**A/N: Thanks to Kman528, nevergone4ever, District4girl and allonsydney for reviewing! I appreciate the support :)**

**Quite a few people have asked for another District 3 victor, so this one is sort of due to a request. I had a few difficulties creating a District 3 name. Seeing as District 3 is the technology district, I eventually decided to name this victor after famous inventors. Hopefully the name sounds ok...**

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoy today's chapter, which is about the 72nd Annual Hunger Games :)**

**"Sending the boys away**

**Leaving them out to play**

**Throwing them miles away**

**Now it's another day, to shelter from the storm."**

**- Sergio Pizzorno, 2011.**

* * *

**The 72nd Annual Hunger Games**

**Alva Baird (18), District 3 Male**

**Kasabian- Acid Turkish Bath (Shelter From the Storm) (2011)**

* * *

I dunk my head in the stream, desperate to cool myself off. I feel the water flow around me, and I pull out again, my mop of dark brown hair dripping water all over me. I lie back on the riverbank and look up at the clear blue sky.

_Wow, what a day._

It's only the third day of the arena, but the numbers are dropping fast. Just nine left already. For those who fared badly at the bloodbath, there is little hope in this environment.

I sit up on the riverbank and take in my surroundings once more. It's a hot, dry desert, more dusty than sandy. The land is mainly flat, excluding the mountains in the distance that seem to make the edge of the arena in all directions. Two or three thin streams stem out from the central lake near the cornucopia, which is still visible from several miles away, its golden surface reflecting the burning sunlight straight back me, shining like a beacon. Aside from the lake and two or three small streams, there is no water. Those who had no luck with supplies are gone already; dried out by the sun, left dehydrated by the lack of available water. The Careers haven't moved far all through the Games. They know that half the field will die without them needing to break a sweat. As long as they defend the water, they are in a dominating position.

Elsewhere in the arena, there is scrubby land further out from the cornucopia, but the promise of food will surely come at a price. I still remember the Games when I was a young child, in which poisonous snakes roamed free in the scrub and boulders. Thankfully, my supplies from the cornucopia have kept me away from the scrub so far.

I hate having to think about the cornucopia. It reminds me of the bloodbath; the most desperate and frantic five minutes of my life, and also the worst. I always knew it would be bad, but I had to commit to running in towards the supplies, especially once I saw the arena, and understood how tough it would be to survive. I scored highly in training, as I'm easily the largest and strongest tribute of the twenty-four in this year's Games. I may have no Career training, but my physical prowess alone won me a nine from the Gamemakers.

Having made the decision to run to the cornucopia, I was one of the first to arrive due to my long stride length, but I found a surprise waiting for me when I arrived. Food and water was in short supply; I could've guessed that from the arena. The Gamemakers always make crucial supplies the most scarce. What I didn't expect was the the only weapons I could find anywhere were heavy, spiked maces. Two feet long and weighing many kilograms, they are slow, cumbersome and umbelievably brutal to use. But they were in abundance, and there were no other weapons available. Having picked up a large green backpack and a mace, I was forced into action far sooner than I'd have liked.

Turning to run from the scene, I found myself face to face with the girl from District 1 - Wonder, I believe her name was - who was armed with the same heavy metal mace as I was. Instinctively I swung at her, fearing for my life as I watched the large spikes collide with her skull.

I don't like to think about what was left of her.

Every night since then I've dreamt about that moment, often waking in a cold sweat in the darkness due to my nightmares. I was worried whether I was going crazy on the first night, like the girl from District 4 who won a couple of years ago.

But one thing that it definitely did was make me realise how wrong the Hunger Games are. Nobody wins in here. Even the victors lose, in reality. They must sacrifice so much to survive in the arena that part of them dies along with the other twenty-three. In my district, our past victors have fared better than some after the Games, but I know of the drunks, the addicts, the lost souls who give up after the arena, when you might expect their troubles to be over.

But why?

Even my late grandparents were too young for the Games at their beginning. We are two generations removed - three from the fabled rebellion - from the Hunger Games. Why should the punishment continue? There is barely a single person in District 3 who remembers the Dark Days. If so, they never fought; they'd have been ten when the war ended, twelve at most. Many of the victors who survived the Capitol's torture are long gone, too. It's been fifteen years since the first victor died, one of the early victors from District 4. Even the victors aren't immortal.

The Capitol can't allow the Games to go on much longer. Soon the Dark Days will be out of living memory, and then there will be no reason for the punishment to continue. If it does, I'm sure that many will stand up for freedom against the Capitol's oppression, as our ancestors did nearly a century ago.

The Third Quarter Quell may only be a few years away, but I like to think that we won't reach the fourth. There's plenty of discontent in the districts, I'm sure of it. There's a fair amount in Three, and I know that other districts such as Ten, Eleven and Twelve are far worse off than we are. The anger against the Capitol is there. Give the districts a reason to fight, and maybe we could change Panem for the better.

But enough thoughts of hoping for a better tomorrow.

Today, I have to survive the Games.

Maybe if I do, I'll manage to do my part in forming a better Panem.

All we need is a cause to fight for.

* * *

**The 72nd Games only lasted six days due to the harsh conditions, set down by a new Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane. The fact that there was only one type of weapon in the arena (the spiked clubs) played into the hands of the larger tributes, who could use the weapons better and were more resilient to the effects of the arena's climate, resulting in an all-male final six by day five.**/p>

**On the fourth day, the Career pack halved when the two girls from District 2 and 4 were turned on by their taller and stronger male allies, cutting the size of the alliance from five to three. The next day, the three male Careers ventured from the vicinity of the cornucopia into the scrubby land surrounding it for the first time, where they were ambushed by a pack of lizard mutts, which killed two and left the boy from District 1 without weapons or supplies. He died during the cold night that followed.**

**The final three tributes, the boys from Districts 3, 7 and 11 were called to a feast on the morning of the sixth day at the lake near the cornucopia, and all three attended. The Games ended that morning, with the strongest of the three boys, Alva Baird of District 3, being crowned the victor of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games.**

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**A/N: I'm not overly sure about this one, so I'm keen to hear what you all think about this chapter :) As ever, I welcome constructive criticism.**

**I'd also like to say a massive thank-you to everyone who's stuck with this story so far, as it's just reached, 25,000 views, which is simply incredible. Thanks so much, everyone :)**

**P.S. I'll give out more info about the community project if I get a little more interest :)**


	73. Stand Up

**A/N: Thanks to Ancrazyhyperawesomeidiot, RealFiction, District4girl, beauthg, catleopardclaw and krikanalo for reviewing! As ever, I appreciate the support :)**

**This chapter is the final one featuring a victor (and arena, for that matter) that I've created myself. I'm in the process of making small edits and improvements to previous chapters so that (in my opinion, at least) the story is getting better and better.**

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**P.S. The song I got for today's chapter has no lyrics, so I can't quote anything :/**

* * *

**The 73rd Annual Hunger Games**

**Imogen Sands (18), District 4 Female**

**The Prodigy- Stand Up (2009)**

* * *

"We'll be back in two hours," Damian says as he leaves alone for the first time. Since the death of the girl from One yesterday, we've not been able to afford to send out two-man patrols. This is his first shift alone.

I wave to him casually as he passes through the gates before disappearing from sight. Hopefully he manages to get a kill today. We're eleven days in, and only nine of us remain alive. I turn back to my other two allies, the boy from District 1 and the girl from District 2, to find them both fast asleep. Or at least they are pretending to be. Either that or they're sunbathing. But there's no time for luxuries in the arena, so I presume the first option.

While they sleep, I presume I should keep guard.

We've set up base in the large stone-walled castle overlooking the harbour, giving us a good view over the arena. The arena itself is a walled town on the coast, with a large, secure castle overlooking the harbour. The arena is split in two by the river running through the town to the sea, which is a source of water available to all. The abundance of buildings makes it difficult to hunt down other tributes, but I'm certain that the Gamemakers will have trapped many buildings to make up for our unsuccessful hunts. The whole Career Alliance has had just two kills since the bloodbath.

The castle is easy to defend, as it has only one entrance; a heavily fortified gatehouse. Two of us have bows, and it gives us a perfect vantage point to take out any attackers. The castle itself is not in pristine conditions; some of the towers are semi-ruinous, with rotting wooden floors and shattered glass in the windows, as though it's been uninhabited for decades, not centuries. There is enough shelter for us to sleep safely, and the weather has done nothing to compromise the defensive capabilities of the stone walls, which are over thirty feet tall. There is no way that any tribute will be able to scale them.

I take my bow, leaving my two allies sleeping (I think) in the courtyard and climb to the roof of the gatehouse, looking out over the town while guarding our base. As usual, noon passes without anyone being sighted, but shortly after noon, I hear one cannon ring out across the arena. I scan the town before me for any signs of violence. True to form, I see nothing.

The cannon has awoken my allies, who apparently were asleep, but they notice me still on guard, and know that they are in no danger. They quickly settle back down again after getting themselves some food.

About an hour after the cannon, my district partner Damian returns. I leave my guard's post to meet him.

Any idea who's gone?" the boy from One asks him when he meets him in the courtyard.

"The girl from District Eleven," Damian says, gesturing to his bloodied sword. "I killed her myself."

"Good job," the girl from District 2 says, smiling. Then she opens her mouth to speak but stops, pointing over Damian's shoulder instead.

We all turn to see a black bird standing in the courtyard fifteen miles away. It's well-known in District 4 that the first things to move in to ruined buildings are jackdaws, which look like small crows. It was no surprise the we've seen dozens in and around the castle. For a second, I consider there to be nothing different about the bird in front of us, but it does seem unusually large for a jackdaw. A second bird lands beside the first, and I notice that they have white beaks. These are entirely different creatures. To be honest, they look like rooks; larger, more clever jackdaws, they look like crows with white beaks. I try to dismiss them as normal, but somehow I can't. I notice several more land around me, and all four of us are soon on our feet, weapons drawn out of precaution. I get the feeling that I'm being watched, and I look up to find what must be close to a hundred of the birds peering down at me from the walls and towers, which make me feel trapped rather than safe for the first time. I'm almost certain that these birds aren't rooks; they're mutts. But as of yet, I can't see what danger they pose to us.

I notice that a couple of the birds closest to us have started walking forward. Something is about to happen; I'm sure of it. I load an arrow into my bow and prepare to shoot, but I am too late.

In an instant, I hear a horrid, raucous screeching fire up around the castle as all the birds descend upon us at once.

I fire one shot with a bow that impales one of the largest birds before I drop it to pull out the curved blade that I keep in my belt just as the mass of claws, beaks and feathers reaches us.

Suddenly I'm flailing madly, unable to see anything but black, swinging my blade at anything and everything that I can reach. I hear screams erupt from my allies an a cannon fires, only just audible over the horrendous screeching of the vile birds. For a moment I stagger as one of the birds' talons slashes through my calf as though it was a knife, soaking my trouser leg with blood and forcing me to cry out in pain. Then there's another gash in my left forearm, then one on my back, my hands, my knees... There is nowhere to hide. I find myself screaming as I drop to the floor, without hope of escape. I curl up in a ball, tucking my head in and hoping the rucksack on my back will protect me from the worst of the attack. For a brief moment I look up to see Damien lying on the floor near me, another bird plunging its claws through he's eyesockets. I'm vaguely aware of him screaming over the sound of the birds, but it soon stops as I hear another cannon. I curl into an even tighter ball now, my whole body shouting at me in pain, but I try to grit my teeth and bear it. I know that the end is near. For a moment I can take it no longer and lash out at a bird, only to watch its beak slice through my wrist. Recoiling in pain, I hear a third cannon sound, and suddenly the birds are gone, the screeching stopped.

Gingerly I get to my feet to survey the scene of the courtyard. The whole of the ground is covered with black feathers, and I notice that they are all over me, too. As I look down to brush them off, I realise what a mess I'm in. My clothes are little more than tattered rags, barely holding to my body. Through my shirt I can see thin cuts all over my arms and torso, with five or six deeper cuts, all of which are bleeding badly. Something badly hurts in my left leg as I take a tentative step forward, and I look down to notice that a whole chunk of flesh has been torn out of my left calf, possibly three inches in diameter. I have to look away quickly to prevent myself from being sick. I'll deal with that injury later. In the meanwhile, I need to see what I have left for me.

There are a dozen birds lying dead on the floor around me (I must have taken out more of them that I had thought) and I notice that they do quite literally have blades in the place of claws, and even sharper metal in their beaks, which shines white in the sun. I guess one of the beaks is responsible for my leg.

Then for the first time I turn my attention to the fallen tributes. The decimated bodies of my former allies all lie close to me, and I try not to pay too close attention to their deformed features. They all fared far worse than me. Thankfully, their suffering is already over.

It seems as though the birds not only targeted us, but our supplies, too. Barely anything is left for me to keep. But now that I am a team of one, there should be enough here to last me three or four more days. Then I sigh as I realise how much more work I have to do. There are still four more tributes out there trying to kill me. On my own, the castle will be too hard to defend. Now I must brave the town.

I may have survived this battle, but I have not yet won the war.

* * *

**All five tributes left alive after the mutt attack were residing in the town by that evening. It took two quiet days before the next kill, when the boy from District 5 was killed by a trapped shopfront when he went scavenging for food in the shops of the high street. The girl from District 8 was next to die, killed at the hands - or, to be specific, the bow - of Imogen Sands, the sole surviving Career. By day fourteen, the arena was down to three.**

**The Games ended with a sight anticlimax as two of the final three, the boys from Districts 6 and 7, managed to take each other out. District Six managed to kill his adversary with an awl, but not without sustaining serious injuries. He died from blood loss the following day. This left Imogen Sands of District 4 to be crowned as the victor of the 73rd Annual Hunger Games, forty-nine years after her grandmother claimed victory in the Games, making them the only grandparent and grandson victors in Hunger Games history.**

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**If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**Now that my job as a Gamemaker is over, I'm curious to know which of the seventy-three Games I've created have been your favourites. Favourite arenas, victors, etc. :)**

**P.S. Which victor should I include first? Katniss or Peeta?**


	74. ¿Viva La Gloria? (Little Girl)

**A/N: Thanks to allonsydney, District4girl, Dragontune172, RealFiction, daydreamer626, Matt Diesel, Flintlightning and Deedledum for reviewing!**

**I should warn to anyone who is reading this before the original books (for some obscure, unknown reason, or have just clicked on this from the 'just in' section), that this chapter (and all future chapters) contain spoilers to the original series. I'm sure that everyone reading this has already read the trilogy, but I'd rather not have anyone complain that I didn't post a massive THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS in the author's notes.**

**The reviews show that Peeta is the victor that you all want, and so it is Peeta that you shall get :)**

**For the first time, I've chosen this song, rather than just pressing shuffle on my iPod. Because of what I was listening to when I first read the series, this song reminds me of Peeta. :)**

**I hope you enjoy today's chapter, about the boy with the bread :)**

**"Little girl, little girl, why are you crying?**

**Inside your restless soul, your heart is dying?**

**Little one, little one, your soul is purging**

**Of love and razor blades your blood is surging."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009**

* * *

**The 74th Annual Hunger Games, Pt. I**

**Peeta Mellark (16), District 12 Male**

**Green Day- ¿Viva La Gloria? (Little Girl) (2009)**

* * *

I struggle to keep up with the five Careers as they run through the woods. The large burn on my chest that I sustained earlier makes it both painful and uncomfortable to move, and so I struggle to lumber along behind Clove, the girl from District 2, who is far shorter and thus slower than the rest of the Career Pack. Thankfully we aren't running for long as my allies abruptly stop around the base of a tree, and it takes me a few moments to work out who has taken to the trees to escape us.

I had been trudging along at the back of our group with Marvel, the short-tempered, arrogant boy from District 1, when she had been spotted, and I hadn't saw more than a ghostly figure as the Careers set off in pursuit of the tribute. Now that I can see the tribute in the branches of the tree six or seven metres above me, I find I'm more shocked than I was when we almost literally ran into her back at that pool.

Sitting in the branches of the tree, looking weathered yet defiant, is the slender figure of Katniss Everdeen.

I couldn't tell you whether this is a blessing or a curse. She may have sustained injuries, but we all have so far. I'm worn-out and badly burned after the Gamemakers forced us back to the cornucopia in the morning of the day with their fire traps. All of us suffered, and it's taken us most of the day to regroup, recuperate and revise our efforts. We've only been on the hunt for about an hour this evening, and my allies have just found their greatest prize yet. I'm just glad that I've had another chance to see her, to know that she's still alive.

For now, at least.

"How's everything with you?" Katniss calls down at us cheerfully, with far more courage than I would ever be able to muster in her situation. I don't know why she's trying to taunt us. Maybe just to stall for time. If this is going to be the end for her, I don't want to be here to see it. But I can't distance myself from my current allies. I'm not yet ready to abandon the Careers. From somewhere a thought of escaping the Careers with Katniss enters my head, but I know already that it won't happen. She probably doesn't even trust me enough to consider it herself, anyway. Especially considering who I have allied with.

Looking around, I can see that my other allies are also taken aback by Katniss' pluck, even more so than myself. But I've known her for years; I know what she's like. Maybe I've never had the chance to get to know her in a way that I'd have liked, but eleven years of school with her have let me comprehend her character almost completely. I know the sort of thing that she's likely to do.

"Well enough," replies Sextus Cato, the boy from District 2, attempting to mimic Katniss' tone. But Cato is from a long line of victors, born and bred for the arena. I doubt he could ever be happy if he tried. Not in the way that Katniss or I could be happy. "Yourself?" he asks her.

"It's been a bit warm for myself," Katniss replies, and for a brief moment I have to glance up at her, despite trying to keep my attention elsewhere. The glance becomes a stare as I check over every square inch of her body, looking for injuries. I need to know that she is alright. She seems to have a large burn on her thigh, so I assume that she had to face the fire, too. Whatever the extent of the injury actually is, she seems to be able to cope with it. She's managed to climb twenty feet up in a tree, after all. Hopefully I have nothing to worry about.

"The air's better up here," Katniss adds cheerfully, and I realise that I've been staring at her for far too long. I distract myself by pulling my knife from my pocket and polishing it against the edge of my shirt, making sure not to look up.

"Why don't you come on up?" Katniss taunts, making me feel uneasy. I'm not going to harm her in any way, but even without me, it's five on one. I don't know why she's doing this, but it leaves me with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I force myself not to watch as Cato replies to her.

"I think I will," he says with his usual confidence, and I can't help but to glance at him as he prepares to climb the tree. I don't know why he's climbing the tree; surely it'd make more sense for one of the smaller tributes to climb the tree after her, such as Clove or Gabriella? However, I don't say anything. This may be because Cato is the leader and I don't want to disagree with him, but also because this way, Katniss' odds of survival might be very slightly raised.

"Here, take this, Cato," the girl from District 1, Glimmer, says eagerly, holding out her silver bow and sheath of arrows to Cato. _What Katniss would give for that._ Damn, I need to push thoughts of her aside for now. However, Cato rejects Glimmer's offer, annoying the girl from District 1. She's realised from early on that most of the other Careers are stronger or better trained than her, so she's been trying tonmake sure that she stays friends with Cato, so that they can remain allies after the main pack disintegrates. It's so blatantly obvious what she's doing that Cato almost completely ignores her at times. After all, he's so much closer to his district partner, who seems to be a more potent threat than Glimmer, and a far better ally.

"No," Cato replies to Glimmer, pushing away the bow. "I'll do better with my sword." And with that, he hoists himself up into the tree and begins to climb.

I look up to watch Katniss begin to climb once more with an elegance that distinguishes itself from Cato's clumsy approach. There's almost an art to the way that she scurries up branches that almost anyone would fall from. She's clearly very experienced. It's beautiful to watch; mesmerising, really.

But for the Careers, it is nothing but frustrating. Cato begins to climb faster, but she is already way beyond his reach. She must weigh less than half of his weight; there's no way he'll get to her. Suddenly I watch as a branch snaps and Cato falls fifteen feet to the solid ground, landing hard. It takes him a few moments but Cato gets back to his feet, swearing profusely.

"Someone smaller needs to go up after her," Clove says matter-of-factly once Cato's antics have ceased.

"Glimmer should go up," suggests Gabriella, the girl from District 4.

"Yes," agrees Marvel, ushering his district partner towards the tree. "She'll be able to climb higher than Cato did due to her size, and maybe then she'll get a clear shot with her bow."

It doesn't take long for Glimmer to clamber into the tree after Katniss, and she quickly climbs far higher than Cato did. She's a decent climber, really. Her problem is that Katniss is an exceptional one. Glimmer perches herself ten metres in the air when her confidence begins to wane, but by then Katniss is way over twenty-five metres high, silhouetted by the evening sun.

The glare from the sun may count for some of it, but most of Glimmer's failure can be blamed on her own incompetence with a bow. She only has it because all the swords were taken when she got to the cornucopia. Glimmer's first three shots fly well wide of their target, and the fourth ends up lodged in the branches of the tree near Katniss. I watch as Katniss clambers over to it, retrieving the arrow and waving it above her head, taunting the Careers on the ground ever further. Defeated and humiliated, I see Glimmer slowly climb back down the ground. Katniss has survived this round. I turn away from the Careers to smile for a moment. Maybe there is hope for her yet.

"We need to try a different tactic," Cato says as Glimmer returns to us on the ground. "She's humiliating us."

"Well, what other weapons do we have?" I ask, trying to get involved. I'm still an outsider in the group, but if I appear eager, the Careers won't suspect my alterior motives.

"Both Cato and I have spears," says Marvel, trying to be helpful.

"They'll be useless," Gabriella says. "They'll get caught in the branches."

"Plus it'll be dangerous to throw almost vertically upwards," Clove adds. "They could injure us if they come back down. I'd have the same issue with my knives."

"I only have a knife, so I guess that'll be of no use," I say, and both Gimmer and Cato nod.

Scanning around the Careers, I see that none of our weapons will be able to harm Katniss. The Career's best hope of getting at her, the bow, has proved to be completely ineffective. However, I can see that the Career's don't need to harm Katniss themselves to kill her. If she's stuck in the tree and something happens to the tree, that that may be enough for the Careers. Between us, we have enough blades to had a decent attempt at chopping the tree down ourselves. It'd take a lot of effort, but it'd be possible. But I don't suggest the idea; I'm on Katniss' side, after all. It might not be much, but I try to get my district partner some time when I interrupt the debate that has sprung up between the Careers.

"Oh, let her stay up there," I say, trying to speak with authority. I'm slightly amazed when everyone stops talking and listens to me. "It's not like she's going anywhere," I continue. "We'll deal with her in the morning."

Looking up at the sky, I realise that the sun has almost set. Katniss has already cost my allies a lot of time as it is. I'm amazed when Cato agrees with me. After a long day, I'm sure that we're all very tired. I certainly am.

"Very well," Cato says. "We'll set up camp. Firstly, we need someone to permanently guard her - Marvel, you're going first." Marvel groans but doesn't confront Cato. He knows his place, and understands that guard duty is far more pleasant facing Cato's wrath. "Lover Boy," Cato continues, using an uninventive nickname that he has coined because he can't be bothered to say "Peeta", even though my real name is a syllable shorter. "We'll need a fire for the camp," he says. "Fetch us some firewood."

"Alright," I nod, leaving the Careers behind me as I begin to collect small branches for out fire. For a minute I'm worried that my temporary allies might try to burn down Katniss' tree using the fire, but my allies have already shown a lack of initiative once today, and Cato did specify that the fire would be for the camp, anyway.

But as I go about my job, I feel more relaxed than I have done in a while. It might not all be good news, but I have earnt Katniss some time tonight. Hopefully she'll have long enough to come up with an escape plan. That thought sticks with me for a few moments, causing me to smile once more as I head back towards the Career camp in the twilight, my arms full of firewood. It's a strange thought, but not an entirely new one; a thought that reminds me of a day long ago, during one of the harsh winters of my childhood. It seems strange to be thinking the same thoughts in the arena, where friendship, unity and compassion are alien ideals.

_Hopefully my actions have let my love live and fight for another day._

* * *

**A/N: There won't be any summaries from now on, as you all already know what's going to happen. And, if you don't, I shan't spoil it for you :)**

**A review for Peeta, anyone? I hope this chapter was ok... As ever, I appreciate constructive criticism. Peeta was my second favourite character from the original series (behind Finnick), and I really want to do him justice in this chapter :)**

**P.S. I'm sure you all know who's next... ;)**


	75. Before the Lobotomy

**A/N: Thanks to allonsydney, District4girl, nevergone4ever, Beauthg, Deedledum, Ancrazyhyperawesomeidiot, Vykktor, Kman528, RealFiction and mangesboy 01 for reviewing! The support is appreciated :)**

**Before we start this chapter, I've got a few things to mention...**

**Despite being the seventy-fifth chapter, this isn't the end of the story. There is still the Third Quarter Quell and the Capitol Games to go. I know that the title of the story may become misleading, but really I see all chapters after this one as bonus chapters, so to speak.**

**I know we're not quite at the end yet, but this story is coming to a close :( That now means that I'm starting up a couple of new oneshot series continuing where this story leaves off. One of them will be a community project, if enough people are interested.**

**Here are the two new stories:**

**75 Games: After the Mockingjay - Alternate Universe. The rebellion never happened, its leaders rounded up and killed after the Third Quarter Quell. The Hunger Games continue. Basically, extra chapters continuing on from this story.**

**75 Games: The Forgotten - 75 more oneshots, telling the story of the same Games as this story from the perspective of the losers.**

**Whichever project you're all interested in helping with, I'll begin a community project for. Any chapters that are submitted for the community project will be accepted, although I'd like to serve as a beta reader for any oneshots that are written.**

**I guess I'll leave it up to you to decide which project you want to do :)**

**Anyway, on to today's chapter. Yet again, I've chosen this song. I think I will be for all future oneshots from now on.**

**This oneshot posed the same problems as Chapter 66, but I hope that you all enjoy the chapter :)**

**"Dreaming; I was only dreaming**

**Of another place in time where my family's from**

**Singing; I can hear them singing**

**When the rain has washed away all these scattered dreams**

**Dying; everyone's reminded**

**Hearts are washed in misery, drenched in gasoline**

**Laughter; there is no more laughter**

**Songs of yesterday now live in the underground."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 74th Annual Hunger Games, Pt. II**

**Katniss Everdeen (16), District 12 Female**

**Green Day - Before the Lobotomy (2009)**

* * *

I pause for a moment to catch my breath, sitting down at the side of the stream, running my hands through the cool water. It's been a tiring day, if an uneventful one. I know that I can't stay here long for fear of the Careers stumbling across me once more. I only just escaped them last time. Plus, I have a job to do.

It's only been a few minutes since I left Rue, parting ways I make my way towards the Career camp near the cornucopia. I haven't been there since the first day, so I only know what's there due to Rue's knowledge. I trust that it's accurate. However, I still have no real plan formulated for when I arrive. I'm just going to stay hidden until Rue lights the fires, and hopefully have something figured out by the time that the Careers are distracted.

I'd guess I've got a few hours to cover the distance between myself and the cornucopia, which is lucky, because the day is a hot one and only a few minutes of walking slowly but steadily uphill is enough to wear me out. I'm glad of being able to rest by the stream.

I've got a feeling that whatever happens today could make a massive impact on the Games. At least, a massive impact for me.

If our plans succeed, the Careers will be at a massive disadvantage. Without the cornucopia supplies, the Careers will be at a disadvantage. They don't know how to feel hungry; not properly hungry, in the way that tributes from the poorer districts do. Without supplies, they will be formidable adversaries, but for the first time, they will be mortal. Three of their number may be gone, but there are still three out there - arguably the strongest three. Cato, his district partner and the boy from One. One on one, I'd last a couple of minutes at most against any of them.

If our plans fail, there's a good chance that I'll be dead by sundown. I'm almost certain that a part of me will be, anyway.

Even if I survive the day, I doubt I'll manage it without killing. At some point, I will lose the innocent side of me to the arena. Whether the rest of me is lost too is up to my own decisions. I know that I'll be able to kill if I need to, now that I have my bow. Whether I can ever make such a commitment to take another's life, I don't know.

Either way, I get the feeling that everything will be different at home after the Games.

If I survive, my time in the arena will surely have distanced myself from many of the people I once knew well. I'm sure that I'll be respected, but I doubt I'll ever fit in properly again. Haymitch never quite managed to. Maybe that was why he became a drunken recluse. I hope that I don't end up like him, but I know that in some way, every victor is broken. Nobody survives the arena without facing hardships. Haymitch is a drunk. Chaff, from District 11, lost a limb. Then there's poor, mad Annie Cresta, and the deranged Cicero Turner. Even the model victors - Finnick, Gloss and Brutus, just to name a few - must all have their flaws. Finnick has lost close friends to the arena. Gloss had to helplessly watch his sister face the arena. Brutus lost a son nearly ten years ago. What if I have to sit through relatives entering the Games? What if Prim is reaped again, when I can't volunteer to protect her? That happened to a boy from Four a few years back. I think he was the one who killed Brutus' son, actually.

There's one victor from Four who's constantly on the edge of paranoia - he had to fight through his own home in the arena. I'm slightly worried myself that I'll never see the woods outside District 12 in the same way again. I'm scared that they will remind me of the arena.

Thinking of the woods, I'm sure that relations will be strained with Gale if I return home. I know that he's suffering now; I'm sure of it. I would be if his name was called, not mine. I can imagine him talking to me about how everything that I've been through is completely and utterly atrocious, and someone needs to make a stand against the Capitol. He's too hot-headed, too ready for violence. I agree that the Capitol are the ones in the wrong, but unlike Gale, I accept that all we can do is try and keep our heads above water. And when we go under, it doesn't matter anymore. There's always been part of me that's felt ready to give up, anyway.

I'd hate to imagine what'd happen to Gale if I don't make it back. Without me to hold him back, I can imagine him letting something slip and getting himself executed as a traitor. I try to push the image out of my head, but it won't go.

In the last few days, I've begun to realise how good life was before the arena. Yes, times were hard, but I had a sense of belonging. I had a place in society, and maybe I wasn't always happy, but there were happy moments. Even if I return home, those moments are gone. My childhood is over; I can't go back. That is another place in time, the door closed behind me.

It's as though I'll have to rediscover District 12 through the eyes of a victor if I manage to get home.

I know it sounds pessimistic, but I've always been a cynical person. A really, I don't think that being a Hunger Games victor is all that it's cracked up to be.

Suddenly I realise that I've been sitting still for far too long. There's a time and a place to think of home. In the middle of a dangerous mission where I need to remain vigilant, now is not the time.

_Enough daydreaming for today, Katniss._

I pull myself to my feel, sufficiently rested for another half-hour of walking towards the Career camp at the cornucopia.

Maybe I won't like what I'm left with at the end of the Hunger Games, but I'm still going to try and survive for long enough to find out.

* * *

**A/N: I don't know if I rambled a little too much here, but I thought I'd finish the 74 'normal' Games with some thoughts over what it's actually like to survive the Games. As ever, I'd like to know what you think. Yet again, did I do Katniss justice? I'll accept constructive criticism, as I know I'm likely to try and rework this chapter at some future point :)**

**P.S. There's just a few 'bonus' chapters to go now... There will be an epilogue at the end, too. I know a couple of people have asked about that.**

**P.P.S. Please remember to let me know which of my two new stories you'd like to become a community project :)**


	76. Song of the Century

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, daydreamer626, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, Kman528, mangesboy01, charliesunshine, krikanalo, allonsydney, Deedledum, Realfiction and Beauthg for reviewing the last chapter!**

**Now that the 'bonus' chapters have started, I've come across a small problem. **

**There wasn't a winner of the Third Quarter Quell.**

**However, there were twenty-four victors in the arena, and so I'm starting a bonus '1 Quell, 24 Victors, 24 Oneshots' as an add-on to this story, telling the complete (or near-complete, anyway) story of the 75th Annual Hunger Games, with each piece of the story being from a different perspective.**

**These twenty-four chapters will take the chapter count to 99, so I'll throw in an epilogue at the end to give us a nice round 100 :)**

**Many of the first few chapters are going to be bloodbath chapters, so I'm going to try and keep them interesting as much as possible.**

**I hope you like the idea of these chapters, and that the oneshots of the Third Quarter Quell are as interesting to read as the rest of the story :)**

**"Sing us a song of the century**

**That's louder than bombs and eternity**

**The era of static and contraband**

**That's leading us into the promised land**

**Tell us a story that's by candleight**

**Of waging a war and losing the fight**

**They're playing the song of the century**

**Of panic and promise and prosperity**

**Tell me a story into that goodnight**

**Sing us a song for me..."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 9.55 am**

**Cecelia Wright (29), District 8 Female**

**Green Day- Song of the Century (2009)**

* * *

Five minutes to go.

Just five minutes, and then a fourteen-year-long wait will be over.

I will return to the arena for the second time.

But this time, I'm not fighting for myself. That said, I never fought much last time. I may have won the Games due to large amount of luck, but this year, luck isn't a factor. The Gamemakers - Plutarch, at least - are on my side. Not that I'm trying to get out of the arena. I've done no preparation for these Games, even though, as the only female victor from District 8, I knew I would be going into the arena three months ago.

But this isn't about me anymore. This is about Katniss Everdeen, the mockingjay. The face of the November revolts that surely inspired this Quell. I'm almost certain that Snow chose what was written on that envelope. Eight months ago, three districts rebelled against the Capitol. Three, Four and my beloved District 8. Of the three districts, ours fared the worst, holding control for just a week before the Peacekeepers wrestled it back. If it wasn't for the fact that the Capitol wanted to cover up the first uprising in nearly a century, I'd almost certainly be dead by now.

And now the Capitol have their chance to wipe us all out in one go. Get rid of the troublemakers from Districts 3, 4 and 8. Get rid of Katniss, in whose name we have risked our lives. Start again, with the Hunger Games continuing, as torturous and sadistic as ever.

That is why we are making a stand.

To return justice to Panem.

We should not be punished for something that barely a person alive remembers.

For the best part of a century, we have been punished for the action of men and women we never knew. The rebels should have been punished; that could be passed off as fair. But punishing their friends, family and all future generations? Surely they knew that at some point, somebody was going to make a stand.

Well, now that time has come.

All of my life, I have only known the suffering of the districts, the cruelty of the Capitol and the constant threat of the Hunger Games. There was no hope of escape. At least, not until Katniss and Peeta managed it.

Maybe this was how it all started last time. We aren't taught history at school; at least little about the centuries before the Dark Days. Maybe all it took last time was a spark of hope; a spark to cause all the districts to rise up against the imperial force of the Capitol. From what we've been told, the rebels got close to overcoming the Capitol, too. Their downfall was the land around the Capitol, which is far too mountainous for fast movement forces. The rebels became stuck in the mountains, becoming easy targets for Capitol hovercrafts. Or so they say.

This time, we have some of the Capitol on our side. Plutarch and his team; rumours out of the Capitol is that they've been an underground force for years, considered terrorists by the press. The revelation that the Head Gamemaker has turned his back on the government will surely cause discontent in the Capitol.

Like many of us, I've offered my services to Plutarch for these Games. It has to be Katniss that gets out alive.

Tributes from six of the districts have told Plutarch that they are prepared to give their lives for the mockingjay. It may only be a small contribution in what may be the start of a long journey to freedom, but if Katniss dies in the arena, I guess we all will sooner or later. If I'm going to die either way, I might as well die knowing that the right person will survive whatever atrocities are waiting for us in this year's arena.

I've already accepted my fate, which I can see as only a positive thing. Knowing that I' not going to return home no matter how hard I try. That's why I did nothing to prepare myself for this year's Games. I spent my last few months safe and happy with my family.

At least I had a chance to say a proper goodbye to my three kids.

I hope they survive all of this. There's a storm coming, no matter who lives or dies in the next few days. I just hope nothing goes to waste; that the sacrifice of my fellow victors and myself will count for something.

A pleasant female voice calls out from a speaker, and I know that I have twenty seconds until launch. I take one last sweeping look around the launch room and embrace my stylist before walking into the capsule.

As the capsule rises in darkness, I conjure up an image of my three children in my head. I try to imagine them as the happy children they were back before the violence of the November revolts.

_I'll never get to see them grow up._

The thought consumes me for a moment and I have doubts over whether what I have promised is the right thing to do. But a promise is a promise. It was difficult - heartbreaking, even - to sit them down and tell them that mum wouldn't be coming home. A tear forms in my eye as I remember their reactions. They're too young for this; all of them. But they must know. They must understand what is about to happen. They must understand the sacrifice that I am about to make.

_I hope that one day, they will be proud of their mother._

Then I'm suddenly blinded as I burst upwards into the bright light of the arena. For a moment I feel alright, but I soon feel edgy. The first thing I see, the golden horn that is the cornucopia, does nothing to help my nerves.

It might not be a good thing, but I feel like I'm fifteen once again.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! We're so close to 450! As ever, I welcome constructive criticism. Plus, I'd like to know what you all think about the idea for the bonus chapters :)**

**Also, as the verdict as to which project everyone wants to see seems varied, I'm going to set up a poll on my profile to settle the matter. Please feel free to head over to my profile and give your opinion :)**


	77. Ishmael & Maggie

**A/N: Thanks to Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, Ancrazyhyperawesomeidiot, allonsydney, Clover80, nevergone4ever, krikanalo, richards25, xx-Want-A-Sugar-Cube-xx and Realfiction for reviewing! I appreciate all of your support! :)**

**I suppose I should mention that the chapters in the Third Quarter Quell are chronological, so this chapter takes place shortly after the last one, although only by a couple of minutes, in this case (the bloodbath chapters come thick and fast).**

**I suppose one benefit of these bonus chapters is that we can re-visit many of the old victors from the series. This chapter contains a victor of my own creation, who previously appeared in Chapter 52. I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter :)**

**"We're all broken-hearted here**

**We're all broken**

**Oh my love, I can't stand to be alone**

**I've been drinking too much, I'd better go home."**

**- Colin MacDonald, 2005.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 9.58 am**

**Luke Ford (40), District 5 Male**

**The**** Trews - Ishmael & Maggie (2005)**

* * *

The thick plastic walls cut me off from my stylist in the launch room, sending me upwards through a dark column into the arena.

Some things never change. The launch room looked exactly like the one I had when I was last here, all those years ago. However, once I'm on the top, I know that things will be very different.

Last time, I succeeded because I was an unknown in the Games. A lot of my success was down to my improvisation; I could make a weapon out of almost anything. This time, in an arena fill with some of my oldest friends, everyone knows my secrets. Take that away from me, and I'm no match for the Adlingtons, or Brutus.

To be honest, if anyone other than Brutus wins this thing, I'll be gobsmacked. Well, to be more accurate, I'll probably be dead, but I would be gobsmacked. I can remember Brutus' Games, they were one of the first that I clear remember watching in my childhood. I was just nine years old then.

I know its unlikely to happen, but I've made an effort to get myself into shape for the Games this summer. I'm not going to go down without a fight. Years of alcohol abuse have left me weak, but something about the desperate nature of my situation has let me overcome my issues. I may be well down the path to forgetting the world, but I've not yet reached the point of no return. I'm not as far along the path as Haymitch, Chaff or the elderly pair from Six. Not yet, anyway.

It's strange, but in a way, the Games have helped me. At least now I have something to live for. There is nothing left in my life, not now, not since I was a young man. My family are gone, half through the natural toll of district life, half through the Capitol, whose hand I forced all those years ago. But I'd prefer not to think of those times. That's why I have the spirits.

I tried to build a new life for myself in District 5 after the Games, but I found that I no longer fitted in with the people of my home. I made a few new acquaintances - mainly the other victors of District 5 - but acquaintances was all that they ever were. Over time, we grew apart, or they simply died. I was the only victor of my generation.

Jared, our district's first victor, died a few years back, when I was in my late twenties. At that point there were four of us; Jared, Dax, Yvonne and myself. Now, I look at who we have left and wonder if soon there will be no living victors from District 5. With Yvonne and myself in the arena and Dax as our mentor, we may soon be down to one. And Dax doesn't have many years left in him, either. I don't mean to sound pessimistic or cruel, but it's true. He's an old man now, a shell of the vibrant, young man he once was. Or so they say. His Games were shortly after the First Quarter Quell, so I guess that makes him almost seventy. A decent age in the districts, there's no doubt about that. But even with the Capitol's aid, he's got a decade left at most. Outside of the Career Districts, sixty is a good age. Very few reach eighty.

I like to think that I managed to hold myself together until my early thirties, but I know that it's not the case. After Jared's death, I tried again to get involved in district life, marrying at thirty-two. The marriage helped me through a difficult period in my life, until it ended four years ago under dubious circumstances. It's never been confirmed, but I know that the Capitol must have had something to do with my wife's death. It was too sudden, and no decent explanation was ever given to me. that being less, I expected no less from the Capitol medical assistants who told me that she was beyond saving.

That was what really broke me, I think. Since then, I've been a recluse, wallowing in my grief, right up until the Quell announcement, when my life was turned on its head once more. I remember coming to an uneasy agreement with Yvonne that we should help get each other back into shape for the Games, despite the fact that we would eventually become enemies. Even now, I'm not sure if it was a good move or not. It may have helped me, but I doubt I could ever kill her now. In that sense, the decision to train with her has weakened me emotionally.

But at least now I can go down fighting.

The arena appears in front of me as my pedestal reaches the top of the cylinder, and I find myself surrounded by water. This could be an issue to many tributes, but thankfully, I can swim. At least, I could. I haven't been in the water for at least a decade.

Looking up and around the arena, I take care not to be dazzled by the bright sun reflecting off of the water. The water itself seems to be a large lake, with white sands and then jungle beyond stretching out in every direction.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmiths's voice booms out across the arena. I have less than a minute to decide where to go. The obvious choice would be the cornucopia. Looking in towards the shining horn, I can see it sitting on a circular, sandy island, with thirty metres of water between myself and the edge of the island. Radiating out from there are long sandy strips of land, like spokes on a wheel. The swim to one of these spokes would be quick, and from there I can run to the cornucopia. It'll be slower approach than most year's Games, which are often a race over dry land, but it's better than staying in the water all the way. Each spoke has two pedestals between it and the next, forming a circumference of tributes, all equidistant from both each other and the island and the cornucopia in the centre. In my wedge of the circle of tributes, District 1's Cashmere stands next to me on one side, and the sand strip is about as far to my left as she is to my right. Beyond the sand strip is Peeta Mellark, and I silently curse my luck for being stuck with two of the heavyweights of this year's Games. I'll most likely be fighting Peeta as I race up the sand strip to my left towards the cornucopia. I scan round the circle, but I can't see Yvonne. I assume the cornucopia must be obscuring my view of her.

Looking in towards the cornucopia, I can see the supplies stacked high at its mouth, drawing us in. I have to admit, in such an alien environment, I have little choice but to be drawn in towards it. I doubt I'll be the first to arrive, but this year it seems like there is enough by way of supplies to cater for us all. I find myself peering in towards the horn, desperate to pick choice supplies before I arrive, so that I waste little time in choosing. Once at the island, speed will be of the essence.

I'm concentrating so hard on identifying the various weapons that I can see through the heat haze when the gong goes off suddenly, stunning me into action.

I have no thought but to dive into the waves on my left as the Games begin for real.

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**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	78. Don't Look Back in Anger

**A/N: Thanks to Ancrazyhyperawesomeidiot, krikanalo, Kman528, allonsydney, District4girl, Beauthg, RealFiction and WeeMadArthur for reviewing! I appreciate the support! :)**

**Yet again, here's another bloodbath chapter, so hopefully I can manage to keep this interesting as the bloodbath chapters run up to chapter 84 :)**

**It's been over forty chapters since this victor's last appearance, so hopefully you all enjoy her return :)**

**"Slip inside the eye of your mind**

**Don't you know you might find**

**A better place to play**

**You said that you'd never been**

**All the things that you've seen**

**Will slowly fade away."**

**- Noel Gallagher, 1995.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 10.00am**

**Seeder King (60), District 11 Female**

**Oasis- Don't Look Back in Anger (1995)**

* * *

The gong sounds, and the Third Quarter Quell begins for real.

I waste no time in diving into the water on my right in an attempt to reach the strip of sand before the tribute on the other side of it. In the water, I feel much lighter than I ever did swimming at home, and although I've been a few years out of practice, I cut through the water quickly and cleanly.

I make land on the thin strip of sand in but a few seconds, but find that I'm not alone when the victor I had been competing with, Toby Denham of District 10, grabs my ankles as I start to run and pulls me back down into the water, trying to shove me under the waves. I land a couple of good punches squarely in his stomach as he pushes me under, but he barely flinches. He's younger, fitter and stronger than I am. Finally he give me a firm push below as he pulls himself onto the land, but I find myself on the surface, albeit a few precious seconds later than I had hoped.

As I pull myself up to the surface, I see that the other tribute in my wedge, Cecelia, is yet to leave her pedestal. Maybe she's worried about possible dangers waiting in the water - something I completely overlooked - or it may simply be that she can't swim.

It doesn't surprise me that when I look up towards the cornucopia, I see that District 4's Finnick Odair is already armed and preparing for a fight. When I see that he's with Katniss, I'm glad that one of us has been able to give her protection as Plutarch demanded. With a water-based arena, Finnick will be far more use to her than Chaff or myself.

As I reach the small island that holds the cornucopia, I'm surprised that half the tributes have barely moved, but I won't question it. Toby, who got one over me moments before, has already grabbed some weapons and made a run for it before even the Careers are organised enough to put up any resistance. Two of them - Gloss and Enobaria - are still on their pedestals. I can understand Gloss (he was always the cautious type), but what is Enobaria waiting for? That's something that I really don't have time to ponder at the moment.

On land, the first tribute I encounter is Chaff, my district partner. He's clear already visited the supplies, and holds a combat knife in his good hand. Just looking at the stump of his other arm reminds me of my greatest - and yet most terrifying - moment as mentor, when Chaff survived the Games after a fifty-foot fall. But enough of the past. I need to grab a weapon and get out of here.

"I wouldn't go in there," Chaff says, gesturing around the corner towards Katniss, where I see Luke of District 5 collapse in a heap, impaled by a trident. At least Finnick is doing his job well. For now.

"I need a weapon," I say to him, adamant that I need it to survive, even though I know that I have already signed off my life. I may have given my life away for the cause, but I still want as many days as I can.

"I've got you something," Chaff says, handing me a scythe, not dissimilar to the ones we use at home in District 11.

"Thanks," I reply quickly. "I guess we should go."

Chaff nods, but suddenly looks past me over my shoulder, his eyes widening in fear.

I just have time to realise what the issue is when the blade slides through my ribcage from behind.

For a moment, the pain is all-encompassing, blocking out my sight as I struggle to remain conscious. I collapse to my knees uncontrollably, crying out in pain. I feel the blade slide back through me and I collapse onto my back, gasping for breath as I feel my blood pour out of me onto the sand. Opening my eyes again, I look up at the pink sky to see Brutus walk slowly away, his sword bloodied.

_At least I will know my murderer._

Chaff has bolted, and rightly so. If he stays here any longer, he'll join me in death. He must know that I'm past saving. I had signed off on life anyway. I just hope he gets a few more days before Plutarch demands his blood for the cause, just as he demanded mine.

At least I've not left anyone behind me in District 11. My family are gone, taken away by the Capitol for my reluctance to participate in their schemes after the Games. I don't even know what happened to them, and now I never will. At home, Chaff was my only friend, when he kept away form the alcohol long enough to make decent concentration. But he'll be joining me in death in just a few days, so I shouldn't feel guilty about leaving anyone behind. But somehow, I do. Maybe it's Katniss. In the end, I was nothing but another martyr. Another name they can use as a rallying point for the rebellion. It's on its way; I know it. I just hope that the mockingjay lives long enough for the fire to spread.

For a while, as I accustom myself to the pain, time loses perspective. I could have been bleeding out on the beach for six hours or a mere five minutes, but eventually I manage to make out another figure hovering above me. It's Cashmere, the woman from District 1, looking worse than she has done in years. Just a short time in the Games has already made her lose the shine that got all the Capitol citizens raving. But I'm not paying attention to her, I'm paying attention to the serrated edge of the knife in her hand, as she presses it to my throat.

I know this is the end, but I don't care anymore. I just want a way out. Cashmere, however, seems to be having second doubts, hovering over me, unsure of whether to finish me or not.

"Do it," I manage to whisper to her. I'll be dead soon enough either way.

Then her face hardens, and there is a flash of blinding pain, followed by nothingness for evermore.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed! :)**

**P.S. I'd just like to remind everyone once more about the poll on my profile to decide what the follow-up story to this will be. I've had a few votes given already, but I'm keeping the poll up until this story's completion, so the decision that has been reached so far is by no means final.**

**With your help, we can make this series what everyone wants to see.**

**GM97 :)**


	79. La Fee Verte

**A/N: Thanks to Ancrazyhyperawesomeidiot, mangesboy01, krikanalo, nevergone4ever, richards25, Beauthg, Kman528, PrinicessLyoka and xx-Want-A-Sugar-Cube-xx for reviewing! We're almost at 500! :D**

**Here's another of my own victors, who we haven't seen in a while. I actually had to look up his original Games, I couldn't remember anything of it... :/**

**I hope you all enjoy the chapter :)**

**P.S. Now that 'OC' can be chosen as a character, I've added the characters 'OC' and 'Other Tributes' to the description for this story. I think that covers all the victors...**

**"Every day, I've got something bringing me down**

**I've got the eyes of a madman**

**I cannot run**

**How does it feel, to live your life when nothing is real?**

**So just send me down the river."**

**- Sergio Pizzorno, 2011.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 10.00 am**

**Marcel Fielding (50), District 9 Male**

**Kasabian- La Fee Verte (2011)**

* * *

The gong sounds, and I fling myself into the water on my left, desperate to reach the cornucopia quickly. The water seems choppy, but I seem to float through it effortlessly, making land in no time at all. Maybe it's the clothes that are helping me.

Pulling myself up from the water, dripping wet, I look around to the other spokes of the wheel, stretching out form the island that holds the cornucopia. I see four or five tributes already running towards the cornucopia. As expected Finnick leads the pack; he's pulling a trident from the supplies as I pull myself to my feet. Luke's done well for someone who's turned to drink, too. Maybe he's stayed sober enough to help himself. To my left, I can see Seeder and Toby tussling two spokes away, and the lumbering figure of Brutus getting out of the water two beyond that. Trying to ignore the distractions, I run in towards the cornucopia.

Upon arriving at the sandy island, I search for a clear path to the supplies, which is rather easy as few tributes have arrived. I have to duck as Toby Denham lunges for me with a knife, but he chooses not to pursue the matter further. Instead, he barrels off into the waves and disappears from sight. He's survived the bloodbath, and he's safe. For now.

Returning my attention to the cornucopia, I almost run straight into Cashmere of District 1,but both of us are unarmed and I once again avoid injury. At the pile of supplies, which is nearly all weapons, I pull a spear and a knife from the pile, and I feel a presence behind me. Turning back, I see Blight, the man from District 7, and instinctively throw my spear at him. He ducks, and the weapon flies off into the water, lost forever. Getting up from the floor, Blight tries to flee, and I line up my knife to throw, but he's blocked by Beetee, the middle-aged man from District 3.

_He's still a decent target._

Throw the knife as hard as I can and it sinks into Beetee's back as he criers out in pain, dropping to the sand. I run out from the cornucopia as I realise that I'm weaponless.

Looking out, several tributes have escaped. Toby and Chaff are gone already. Others, such as Cecelia, Woof, Mags and Peeta, haven't left their pedestals. Looking in towards the cornucopia, I see several lying dead or dying on the ground, such as Seeder from Eleven, Blake from Six and Luke from District 5. Johanna is dragging Beetee towards the water, trying to get him to safety for some unknown reason. But I don't have time to ponder that now. The Careers finally seem to have gotten themselves organised, but I somehow steel myself to return to the mix and retrieve a weapon once more.

Luckily, the focus of the Careers seems to be on the unexpected alliance of Finnick and Katniss, who are being pushed back towards the water. Sneaking around to the other side of the supplies, I catch a glimpse of Gloss flying backwards into the water, blood pouring form a wound in his leg. Hopefully it'll be bad enough to rule him out as a threat. At the supply pile, I pick up a short sword (there seems to be an almost infinite number weapons this year) and run back the way I came, choosing a spot in the foliage to swim off towards.

And then I run into Brutus.

He swings once at me and I parry the blow, but his strength is enough to knock my weapon from my hands. Terrified, I plunge into the water behind, realising that being weaponless in the arena is better than being weaponless on a Career-infested island.

I barely get ten metres before the pain comes. Sharp at first, excruciating in a few moments as the salt water replaces my blood in the wound in my neck. I reach up instinctively, yanking the knife free as I writhe in pain beneath the waves, choking on the salty water as I struggle to remain oriented as clouds of my own blood fill the water around me. I know that it is over for me already. If I can manage to get myself out of the water, I'll be an easy target for the Careers who are still lurking behind me.

But I don't get out of the water.

I don't even get another ten seconds before unconscious arrives, and I know that there will be no way out for me.

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**A/N: Sorry if this one's a little short... :/ I hope that you all enjoyed it anyway, as I focused more on the overall action of the bloodbath than on the specific character this time, so I hope it was something different and interesting to read :) If you did enjoy it, please review! I'll accept constructive criticism :)**

**P.S. A few people have been asking about my other story 'Mentor' lately, and I'm going to say here that I'm hoping to return to it at some point soon. Whether soon is this week or in the next couple of months, I don't know. The plot is very complicated and chapters are challenging to write to hold up the intricate plot, so it's difficult to do a good job with writing it when I'm multi-tasking between 'Mentor' and this story, but I will set aside a day or two to get a couple of chapters written in the next month or so. I know it's not ideal for those of you who are following the story, but I'm sure that anyone who has written two stories at once will know the challenge of clashing priorities, and for the moment, my focus is here with '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots'.**

**Hopefully, you can all understand my situation.**

**GM97 :)**


	80. A Small Slice of Heaven

**A/N: Thanks to MJElliot, Renchikara and krikanalo for reviewing the last chapter!**

**Here's yet another bloodbath chapter, and I'm finding these exceedingly hard to write. If they're getting boring, let me know, and I'll try a different tactic.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

**"The voice of reason**

**Is rhyming with treason today**

**The laughing Devil**

**Is chasing the angels away."**

**- Ian Broudie, 1992.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 10.00 am**

**Indiana James (50), District 10 Female**

**The Lightning Seeds - A Small Slice of Heaven (1992)**

* * *

The gong sounds, and I watch all the tributes around me fly into the water. I'm having second doubts about it myself. I can swim, but only just. I'd rather not take my chances with the waves, especially with so many other victors nearby, waiting to pounce. And who knows what dangers the Gamemakers may have laced the water with. One thing that I've noticed with a lot of the victors is that even those who weren't from Career districts have become as arrogant as the Careers. They think that because they've won it once before, they can do it again.

Well, it's either that or they've got a death wish. They're not stopping to think things through. I won my games by outsmarting the other tributes. I was an opportunist. Let the big guys wear each other out, then stroll in for an easy kill. It worked before, and I see no reason to change my strategy this time around. As most of the other tributes race off towards the cornucopia, I realise that this could be easier than I thought. So many of the tributes are capable of dealing so much damage to one another that barely anyone will survive the bloodbath unscathed.

In the Capitol, there have been debates for years about who the greatest victors of all time have been. Although Amadeus Cato seems to be everyone's number one, there's a lot of debate about who is second best. Who would win in a fight, Finnick or Brutus? Cashmere or Gloss? Johanna or Mags, had they both been in their prime together? Which Quarter Quell victor is the strongest, Arturo or Haymitch?

Now that the Capitol might get some of the answers, I can't imagine that they will be overly pleased about some of the outcomes. It's alright to debate, but actually watching their favourites fight to the death a second time? These Games aren't likely to be popular with the general audience, so I feel like the Capitol are likely get things over with quickly. Looking at the cornucopia, at which Finnick Odair has just managed the first kill of the bloodbath, I can see only weapons. No doubt the Gamemakers feel the same way about these Games as the rest of us. For the first time, the Capitol suffer along with the districts. They have become just as attached to the victors as their homelands have.

Focusing once more on the cornucopia, I realise that my plan of letting everyone else take each other out is working perfectly. Several have gone down already in the first few minutes. Luke Ford was killed coldly by Finnick, and Brutus finished off Seeder and Blake in quick succession. Many of us haven't moved from the starting pedestals, although I guess it to be for a different reason to my own. A couple move out as Enobaria swims out towards us, the action at the cornucopia dying down. I watch as Yvonne, the girl from District 5, decides to take the risk of swimming away towards the foliage around the water without any supplies, but she's able to get away. Enobaria, who I notice is joined by Gloss while Cashmere and Brutus contain the situation on land, isn't fast enough to pursue her.

That's when I notice that she's picked a new target; me.

I'm confident by now that the water doesn't have any hidden traps - at least, none that are currently playing a part in the Games - as almost all the tributes have left their pedestals by now. Even old Woof, who is Gloss' latest target, has abandoned his pedestal, although it's clear that he won't get very far, and is quickly within Gloss' reach.

Suddenly my attention is averted to the Career tribute ten metres away. I've spent far too long staring at everyone else's misfortune. I notice that Enobaria, the thirty-year-old woman from District 2, has a knife in her hand, poised to throw. I imagine that her throwing arm must be impeded by the water around her, as the first knife sails slowly past me to my right from short range, and I fall backwards from the pedestal deliberately, taking to the water to make my escape. I sit surprisingly high in the water, making it easy for me to swim, but Enobaria seems to be gaining. Eventually, I feel the weight of her body as it lands heavily on my back in the water, and I'm forced beneath the waves for a couple of moments before swinging a punch at the Career tribute, knocking her backwards.

Enobaria seems stunned momentarily before shaking her head, as though she is shaking off the pain itself. She quickly comes to her senses again and lunges at me once more, as I've barely had time to move away before the onslaught continues. She kicks out at me, but in the water her actions seem sluggish, giving me time to react to her attacks. She manages to get closer to me once more and she blocks a pair of my futile punches before launching herself at me again, trapping me in a headlock as she reaches for another knife.

Somehow I wriggle free under the waves, but she has a knife, and I have nowhere to go. She drives it at my stomach, and for a moment I think that the end has come, until I realise that the dark liquid spewing into the waves is coming from the belt strapped around my waist.

For a moment, Enobaria looks at me in confusion as I try to back away before she throws the knife straight at me. It slices through my forehead above my left eye, forcing me to scream in pain instinctively and blinding me with my own blood. I notice a slight, strange, sinking feeling that I attribute to my wound as Enobaria pounces again, plunging another knife deep into my chest before leaving me be.

The pain is unimaginable and unendurable. I can't help but cry as my life force seeps away into the waves along with my blood. I stare upwards into the pink sky as I float on the water, wondering what will become of the other tributes in the arena. What will become of the Capitol who turned friends on friends. What will become of the Capitol that sacrificed its own beloved victors. What will become of a nation so sadistic and corrupt.

I wonder what will become of my cousin Fernando, my mentor in these Games and the only person left in the world that I truly love. He is the only one who can possibly understand what I'm going through now. Hopefully he'll be able to recover in a world where he'll have to get by on his own.

I just have time to conjure up an image of his smiling face as my belt slips from my waist and I fall under the waves, never to rise again.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**Also, thanks to everyone who has voted on the poll to choose the follow-up story for to '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots'. The votes is still hanging in the balance, and there is still time to cast your vote, so make sure to make it count!**

**P.S. We've reached another milestone: 30,000 views, which is just incredible. Thanks once more to everyone for the support with the first eighty chapters of what I hope you all think is a great story :)**


	81. Restless Heart Syndrome

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, PrincessLyoka, krikanalo, allonsydney and xx-Want-A-Sugar-Cube-xx for reviewing! All support is appreciated :)**

**I'm going to make the point once again that these first view victors can only be shown during the opening moments of the Games because in canon, they die at the cornucopia. I'm sure you all understand, but I'm just clarifying. There are four more chapters set at the bloodbath, and then the remainder of the Games begin :)**

**I hope that you all enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"I need to find a place to hide**

**You never know what could be waiting outside**

**The accidents that you could find**

**It's like some kind of suicide**

**So what ails you is what impales you**

**I feel like I've been crucified to be satisfied**

**I'm a victim of my symptom**

**I am my own worst enemy**

**You're a victim of your ****symptom**

**You are your own worst enemy**

**Know your enemy."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 10.00 am**

**Blake Carlton (60), District 6 Male**

**Green Day- Restless Heart Syndrome (2009)**

* * *

I'm still struggling to comprehend my surroundings when the gong sounds, and I notice tributes flying off of their pedestals in a hurry. It's hard to work out my surroundings, as today has been the roughest yet.

It's been a week since the reaping, when I made a conscious decision to stay away from the substances. No more morphling. The Games were coming. Now they are here, and I think the withdrawal symptoms have left me worse off than the morphling itself. I can think again; my brain no longer sedated by the painkillers. Strangely, so long away from reality has numbed my sense of loss somewhat. As though some of those dreadful memories have been banished from my mind forever. They've certainly made no attempt to reappear.

My mind may be in better shape than it has been in a long time, but it still craves the liquid that left me in such a wreck of a body to begin with. Now, without my precious morphling, I feel weak all over, can barely balance, my sight is blurry and I have terrible pains.

And the Games have only just begun.

Even in good shape, I doubt I'd have ever stood a chance of winning. I'm too old. That's why I've spent the last week trying to enjoy myself rather than train seriously, and make sure that Molly, my district partner who suffers more from the effects of the morphling than I do, has enjoyed her last week of relative freedom.

We're not fools, despite what our vacant looks and wasted bodies may suggest. We've made some bad decisions in our time, but who hasn't? If our bad decision is to go through with killing another in the Hunger Games, then I don't see us at fault. It's kill or be killed. Live with the guilt or pay the ultimate price. At the time, the guilt seemed like the right thing to do. Looking back over forty years later, I'm sure that Molly and I would disagree, but at the time, getting home was our priority.

But I can no longer say that.

Our priority is to help Katniss Everdeen become victor of the Third Quarter Quell. After her display in last year's Games, she could be the one who the districts need to become the figurehead of an uprising against the Capitol. They say it's begun in some districts. Maybe more will follow if she can survive the Capitol's wrath once more.

We're old, wasted, and ultimately her competition. These Games give us a chance to give our lives for a cause while putting an end to our own misery. Of course, I'm going to try and survive. I'd be a fool not to. I need to eliminate some of the field for her, increasing her chances of survival.

_If only I was actually some use._

Despite being a victor, I'm sure that I'll serve the same purpose as most of our tributes. Ones with no particular talent; the ones who are weeded out before the real fighting begins. Molly and I have lived up to our district's expectations so far, being two of the lowest scorers in training, with two fours. Considering our condition, I'd call that decent. But I'm no Brutus, and I'm sure that our chances of sponsor support in an arena with Katniss, Finnick, Cashmere, Gloss and Enobaria (some of the most popular victors of them all) are slim.

Plutarch has told me who else is supporting the cause. Three, Four and District 7. Eight, Eleven and District 12. And, of course, my very own District 6. I know who my enemies are.

I realise through my hazy vision that I've been stalling for at least thirty seconds, and there is already action at the cornucopia, which I can see forty yards away along the blue floor. Only when I step from my pedestal do I realise that I was surrounded by water. Somehow I manage to float as I flounder in the waves, and I find myself washed up on a spur of land. Standing up, I can see the cornucopia, closer than before. As I run, I can hear distorted screams through my damaged ears that are full of water from my dunk in what I presume to be lake.

Looking back towards my pedestal, I can't see a thing but the pink sky and the blue sea. I try to search the waves for Molly, who I know won't have tried to reach the cornucopia. She may have been a fighter in her day, but there's just enough sense left in her to know a losing battle when she sees one.

I've always been a little more fearless. I know that whatever I do, I'm not going to become a winner, so I don't have any fears of death. In that sense, I've mastered death. I no longer fear it. After all my suffering, I no longer care.

As I reach the cornucopia, I cast my mind back to the last time I was in the arena, when I had resigned myself to my death on that final day. When I knew that the cards were stacked against me and somehow I pulled through. I don't like to think about how I managed it, but I did. What I want from the memory was the fearlessness that a sixteen-year-old Blake could manage when staring death in the face. My body may have been wrecked, but when I'm unimpeded by the morphling, I'm the same boy who volunteered for the 31st Annual Hunger Games all those summers ago.

I'm weak and my head hurts from the bright sunlight, but I move forward fearlessly as I arrive at the island. I just have a couple of moments to scan the land for a weapon before a dark-skinned man with one arm whose name eludes me sprints past me, and I turn to watch him dive beneath the waves, escaping from danger. For now.

Turning back towards the shining golden horn that is the cornucopia, I see the reason why he was running. _Chaff_, I remember his name was, upon seeing his district partner Seeder bleeding out on the sand just a few metres away from me. It looks like there have already been some casualties. As I move towards the cornucopia more cautiously than before, I wonder who and what caused her to be in such a condition.

I don't have to wait long.

Suddenly Brutus' imperious figure is towering over me, having appeared from nowhere, and I know immediately that there will be no escape.

I quickly catch a glimpse of the blade as it swings towards me before there is a blinding pain, a flash of white and then nothing.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Can we get to 500 with this chapter? :) I'm still welcoming constructive criticism, of course :)**

**P.S. We've almost finished the bloodbath chapters! :D**

**P.P.S. I thought I'd just quickly mention that I finished a fanfic for 'A Series of Unfortunate Events' earlier this week. I doubt anyone is interested in reading it, but if anyone is, please feel free to check it out!**


	82. East Jesus Nowhere

**A/N: Thanks to kiliflower, mangesboy01, RealFiction, beauthg and krikanalo for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I hope you all enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"A fire burns today**

**Of blasphemy and genocide**

**The sirens of decay**

**Will infiltrate the faith fanatics."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 10.00 am**

**Jacob 'Woof' Harley (76), District 8 Male**

**Green Day- East Jesus Nowhere (2009)**

* * *

Despite my being hard of hearing in my old age, I can still faintly hear the gong ring out over the noise of the water at my feet. I watch as the other tribute in my wedge, Katniss, dives into the water quickly, skimming along the water to the sand strip on her left. I used to be a decent swimmer, back when I was a young man. I'd attempt the swim towards the supplies if I didn't remind myself of my age. It's been many summers since I last found myself in the water, and I doubt I've still got what it takes. I'd be no use at the cornucopia, anyway. I might as well wait out here for my allies to reach me, ready to move out.

Plutarch says that the plan is to break us out of the arena. Get as many of us out alive as possible. I know that not all of us who signed up for his rebellious schemes will leave this arena alive. It just won't be possible. But hopefully most of us will. Beetee, doubtedly the most intelligent victor and undoubtedly the greatest inventor of the victors, is in charge of formulating the plan. He knows what he is doing, even if all of us haven't been filled in on the intricacies of the plan. One thing is clear to me, though.

Protect Beetee.

Once he's safe, protect the mockingjay.

As I stand on my metal plate spectating the beginning of the bloodbath, my attention returns to Katniss, who is talking with Finnick at the pile of supplies at the front of the cornucopia. I hope that he manages to get her on his side. Eventually I see Finnick show her something on his wrist - it glints brightly in the hot morning sun - and she turns away from him, ducking as Finnick throws a trident into the body of Luke Ford, who had just pulled himself ashore.

_One down, twenty-two to go._

I avert my attention to find my young district partner Cecelia, but she hasn't moved from her pedestal. I don't blame her; it's best to let the better fighters - Finnick, Johanna, Chaff and the like - support the alliance. Speaking of Johanna, I catch a glimpse of her pulling an injured Beetee towards the water, Blight keeping guard, but the Careers aren't after them.

Cashmere's yet to be seen, but the other three are advancing on Katniss and Finnick. As arrows fly, Enobaria drops into the water, and Gloss follows her much less gracefully, an arrow sunk into his calf. They look back at the battle on land, where Brutus has blocked one of Katniss' arrows and is fumbling with the oil coming out of his punctured belt, before setting their sights on a new target.

_Me._

Well, not just me. Cecelia and Yvonne and Indiana and all the tributes who are yet to move from their pedestals. The weaklings. Those with no defence.

I look on as Yvonne of District 5 dives into th water, swimming away from the cornucopia without bothering to collect any supplies. It may be a risk in the long run, but for now her life is safe.

Turning back to face the oncoming Careers, I find myself looking straight into the eyes of Gloss, the young man from District 1.

I'm his next target.

There's only one hope for me, and that is to attempt an escape similar to the one that Yvonne just pulled off. I'm just going to have to swim for it. Even so, I'm tentative as I first drop off the pedestal into the warm water. I'm still able to float easily, but as I start my swim towards the shore, I know that I'll be lucky to reach it. I'm far too slow. I'm just an old man.

It is often painful to accept that one is no longer able to do some of the things that one could do when he or she was younger, but this occasion is excruciating. Sound in mind, but not in body.

Despite my dogged, desperate determination, it takes me far too long to get close to the shore, and it takes far too little time for the athletic, well-built figure of Gloss Adlington to catch up with me.

At least, when death finally comes, I'm grateful that he makes it quick.

* * *

**A/N: If you liked this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I apologise again if anyone is getting bored of bloodbath chapters, but there are only two left now :)**

In other news, the poll to decide which story should follow this has been so close that I'm actually going to publish both stories. Both are going to be community projects, and more information on how to enter chapters for either '75 Games: After the Mockingjay' or '75 Games: The Forgotten' is available on my profile.

**I hope that you all wish to get involved, and I look forward to reading all of your chapters :)**

**P.S. I'm going to be writing a lot of chapters myself too, and I'll be posting Chapter 1 of both stories in the next couple of days :)**


	83. 21st Century Breakdown

**A/N: We're over 500 reviews, so special thanks go to allonsydney, PrincessLyoka, RealFiction, Klicker'andKash, beauthg and krikanalo for reviewing the last chapter! It's a massive milestone, and I guess it shows just how far we've come with the story :)**

**I hope you all enjoy today's chapter, the last of the bloodbath deaths :)**

**P.S. If anyone's wondering, there are many references to songs from Green Day's 2009 album '21st Century Breakdown' because it was the music I was listening to when I first read the Hunger Games Trilogy last November. Most of the songs on the album remind me of some scene or character, so I'm working most of them into this story in the chapters relating directly to the original trilogy (Chapters 74-99) :)**

**"We are the class of, the class of Thirteen**

**Born in the era of humility."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 10.00 am**

**Holly Thorpe (34), District 9 Female**

**Green Day- 21st Century Breakdown (2009)**

* * *

The 75th Annual Hunger Games begin for real as the gong rings out across the arena, and all hell breaks loose.

I stand still on my plate as tributes fly into the water all around, scared out of my mind. It's been sixteen years since I last entered the arena, and my situation couldn't be further from the arena I found myself in last time around.

My beloved corridors and alleyways are gone; replaced with a vast expanse of water. The shelter of the buildings has been taken from me, replaced by a hot, humid atmosphere with no sign of rain clouds. The tributes are different; there are no innocent children here, just cold, calculating, ruthless killers.

I was a killer myself, once. When I thought that my life mattered more than my dignity. Such times are behind me, and I no longer whether I made the right decisions in the arena. Since returning from the Capitol a changed woman, I've never looked back on my time in the Games.

Not until these Games.

Forcing us through the old motions, I feel like my frightened eighteen-year-old self from the days leading up to the arena sixteen years ago for the 59th Games. Helpless. Lost. Alone. Of course, my fortunes took a turn for the better after I entered the arena, using my naturally-given skills to the best of my ability, and making the most of what I had. I knew what was expected of me.

It's an odd feeling, killing a person. Once you're over the initial shock of performing whatever brutal act is needed to finish the person off, it's often a bad time to sit back and think. That person, whoever they are - let's take the boy from District 4 whose throat I slit in the arena - will have made thousands of decisions, thousands of actions to have ended up where he was at that time, dragged backwards into a storeroom with nobody to answer his timid pleas for help. It wasn't just his decisions, too. It'll be choices made for him by his friends, family, maybe even a girlfriend back home. All of them added to his character. Even more recently, his mentor, stylist and allies in the arena. All of them had made him grow from a boy into his own person.

But all I saw was a boy with a spear, and I killed him. I made everything that all of those he knew had done for him count for nothing.

After that, it wasn't fun, like the Careers think that it is, or satisfying, as I had originally thought when I knew I was one tribute closer to home. The last few kills were just nasty jobs that I had to do. There was no alternative. I'd left my innocence way behind me by that stage. So I pushed all my doubts to the back of my mind and soldiered on, until I woke up in the Capitol after the explosion that wiped out the boy from District 3.

However you want to put it, I've seem enough death for a lifetime.

I'm startled back to reality as the first cries of pain of the bloodbath ring out across the water. I try to look away but I find it impossible to, despite how horrible the images that I am greeted with are. I really thought that things would be different this year. Surely some of the other victors, maybe Toby or Chaff, would be as sick of violence as I am? Apparently not, as I watch them both scramble away from the cornucopia, still putting up a fight, although admitted not towards each other at this time. Weren't half of us friends? Aren't Enobaria and the Adlingtons fighting each other? They might be in the same alliance for now, but I'm sure that all bonds will be severed when it is a matter of life and death. Even Cashmere and Gloss will have to turn against each other, or face the consequences.

_Imagine having to fight your own twin brother._

I shake my head, trying to rid such despicable thoughts from my mind. I try to remember last night at the interviews, where nearly all of us dared to make our own protest against Snow and the Capitol for staging these Games. After all, we've all done everything that the Capitol has asked from us, and more. When we held our hands together in unison during the anthem last night, I genuinely felt as if many of us might attempt to be peaceful in the arena. The two men whose hands I held are split on this matter. Woof seems resigned to fate, making no attempt at violence as he stands still on his pedestal as I do, whereas my district partner Marcel has run in towards the cornucopia, ready to fight. Unlike many of our number, he's young enough to put up a fight, and so far he's managed it. I guess the arena brings out the worst in some people. If he wins, his sins will be forgotten - rewarded, even - just as mine were sixteen summers ago. For some people, that - and the promise of a prolonged life, albeit one as a murderer - is incentive enough to fight in the Games.

But I'm not going to play anymore.

Looking in towards the cornucopia I watch some of the victors fall, a few of them my friends. After killing in the arena, the Games were always different to watch at home, somehow more real. But nothing prepared me to watch another human die before my eyes. Having killed before, even just watching Blake Carlton's decapitated body lie limp on the sand makes me feel so disgusted that I stare into the waves for at least a minute. I imagine this must be what it was like for the children of those first few Games, when the districts' punishment was actually justifiable, to a degree, of course. Those children who had grown up with war and death. Those children to whom the Games were just reminders of the traumas of their past. Those who watched their families die and their homes go up in smoke. The Games taught by example; making sure that the districts never forgot the evils of the Dark Days. It taught them to learn from the mistakes of Thirteen, the rebel leaders.

Now, the Dark Days are the lesser evil; the Games have grown larger and more hated than the war that begun it all. It has outserved its purpose.

And yet the Games go on.

I actually thought that yesterday may have been the start of something. I'm not sure what, but a way of telling the Capitol that the districts do not condone their actions. That the Games are only serving to antagonise the Capitol in the districts' eyes. But now that lives are on the line, we all play the Capitol's game like everyone else.

But I've had enough. I'm sick of fighting. I'm sick of death. And I'm sick of the Hunger Games.

It may not be much of a protest, but it's something. Maybe I will be remembered for it, and not forgotten like the hundreds of nameless children who have died in the Capitol's arenas during the last seventy-five years.

Slowly I lower myself down so that I am sitting on the pedestal that brought me into the arena, the metal hot beneath me. I dangle my legs into the water and look towards the cornucopia. Let the Careers take me. I don't want to be a part of this cruel world anymore.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**On another note, school is proving to be more challenging than ever, and so my time to write has been limited so far this week. Despite announcing the two community projects, I doubt I'll be publishing them until this weekend (7th-8th September), unfortunately.**

**Hopefully you all understand my situation.**

**GM97 :)**


	84. Murder City

**A/N: Thanks to richards25, PrincessLyoka, krikanalo, allonsydney, mangesboy01 and beauthg for reviewing! All support is appreciated :)**

**This chapter is sort of a semi-bloodbath chapter, and the last set during the first hour of the Games. Hopefully it provides a rather interesting final take on the deaths in the initial bloodbath :)**

**I hope that you all enjoy today's chapter :)**

**P.S. The dialogue in this chapter is taken from Chapter 19 of 'Catching Fire'.**

**"Desperate, but not hopeless**

**I feel so useless in the murder city**

**Desperate, but not helpless**

**The clock strikes midnight in the murder city."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 10.00 am**

**Peeta Mellark (17), District 12 Male**

**Green Day- Murder City (2009)**

* * *

The gong sounds, and for the second time in a year I find myself forty metres from the cornucopia as the Hunger Games begin.

Last year, I spent time studying all of my opponents and making sure I knew what I was doing when I rushed to the cornucopia of the first day. This year, I have no intentions of doing the same. This year, despite learning all I can in the last few months with Katniss and Haymitch about all of our possible adversaries, I know next to nothing about the other victors as people. I talked to most of them a little during training, but our conversations rarely deviated from the matter at hand in the gym, whether that be throwing spears or learning which plants are safe to eat in the arena. I don't really care if they die.

The only one that I really care about is Katniss.

I won't be happy about the others dying, but it will be necessary if my love is to survive, just as she did last summer. I know it may seem cold-hearted, but nobody becomes a victor through compassion.

I suppose I could claim that I was ill-prepared as an excuse for not rushing to the cornucopia, but that contradicts with my perfect score of twelve. The truth is that I can't swim, if I'm honest. I'll just wait here until Katniss comes to fetch me.

The first tributes are arriving at the island and I'm still yet to see her. Then I notice Finnick Odair round the corner into sight, and I see that the small girl near his powerful figure is Katniss. For a moment, my heart comes into my mouth as I watch Finnick raise his trident arm to strike, only to hurl his weapon over Katniss and into the body of the man from District 5. I watch as the bloodied body of the first casualty of the Games falls back onto the sand.

_One down, twenty-two to go._

I notice Finnick and Katniss standing back-to-back, their weapons at the ready. I can only presume that they are now allies, which concerns me a little. How come I was never informed that we had allies? Maybe it was a decision made in the spur of the moment just a few seconds ago. Whatever it was, I didn't know anything of it until now.

I watch as the first Careers reach the supplies, and Brutus is the first away, almost instantly getting involved in the action, running his sword through Seeder from behind. It's almost one move from there as he pulls his weapon from her body and swings it again, cleanly decapitating the male morphling from District 6. I feel nothing at his death. I never even knew his name. He never really stood a chance, anyway. I watch as Chaff bolts into the water before he shares the fate of his district partner, and I notice that two or three tributes are already clearing out, although most of them are too far away for me to recognise them from my pedestal.

Turning my attention back to the cornucopia, I can now see Brutus' allies, Enobaria and Gloss, making a beeline for Katniss and Finnick. Three on two with the Careers isn't a good situation to be in. Finnick's moved round to cover the far side of the supply pile nearer to Brutus, so Katniss has to deal with the other two Careers herself. She shoots at Enobaria, who slips back into the water to escape harm, but one of her arrows finds Gloss' calf, who plunges backwards into the water behind him.

Katniss runs back on herself to find Finnick again, who seems troubled by Brutus' close proximity. She fires an arrow at him, but he blocks it with his belt, which he is using as a sort of shield. Something spews from it when the arrow hits, causing Brutus to flatten out onto the ground and roll back under the waves.

_You need to get out of there_, I think, willing Katniss to make a move away from the cornucopia. Soon all four Careers - I presume that Cashmere will be joining her brother in the pre-fabricated Career Alliance.

It seems as though she's thinking the same thing, as both her and Finnick move away from the cornucopia towards me and my metal plate. They stop at the water's edge, and I get the impression that Katniss is preparing to swim out towards me. However, Finnick seems to stop her, and dives under the waves himself, swimming out almost effortlessly towards me.

"Come on," Finnick says as he reaches me within just a few seconds, extending a wet hand out of the water towards me. "Your wife is waiting." It takes me a minute to realise what he means, but then I remember that in the eyes, of the Capitol, I am married to Katniss, which I see as both a blessing and a curse. Maybe it's nice to dream, but part of me says that a marriage between the two of us will never be as real as I would have liked, which is a thought that I don't have time for in the first hour of the Hunger Games, when speed is of the essence if we are to survive the bloodbath. I don't say anything to reply but grab Finnick's hand firmly and he pulls me beneath the water. I find that I float much more easily than I expected, and Finnick puts a strong arm around me, pulling the pair of us towards land with his free hand.

Upon arriving at the land near the cornucopia, Katniss grabs hold of me and helps me up onto solid ground.

"Hello again," I say, kissing her as I stand. "We've got allies," I say matter-of-factly.

"Yes, just as Haymitch intended," she says, although after the interviews I know that our mentor wanted nothing of the sort.

"Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?" I ask. Until ten minutes ago, I was assuming to just be Katniss and I, as it was last year. I can understand Finnick, as he's a near-perfect physical specimen and the highest scorer in training this year excluding Katniss and me. And considering what we did to earn our scores, I've got reasons to believe that Finnick will be the most lethal of all of us this year. I find that I'm glad he's on our side, even if it is only for a few days.

"Only Mags, I think," Katniss says, gesturing towards the old woman from District 4 who's slowly and doggedly making her way through the water towards us. I hadn't even noticed her until Katniss pointed her out.

"Well, I can't leave Mags behind," Finnick adds. "She's one of the few people who actually likes me."

"I've got no problem with Mags," Katniss says. "Especially now that I see the arena. Her fishhooks are probably the best chance we have of getting a meal."

"Katniss wanted her on the first day," I add, trying to appear useful, because at the moment I feel as though Katniss and Finnick have this whole thing planned out, and I know nothing. It's quite infuriating, really. I guess I'll have a chance to catch up once we're away from here, and temporarily safe.

"Katniss has remarkably good judgment," Finnick says, smiling, before reaching down to scoop Mags out of the water. Mags makes some discernible remark, patting her belt, but Finnick seems to understand.

"Look, she's right," Finnick says, although I've no idea what Mags was on about. "Someone's figured it out."

Finnick points to Beetee, who is flailing around in the waves but staying above water somehow. To me, he looks injured more than anything, and I notice that Blight is very close to him. Far too close for adversaries. _I wonder what has inspired that alliance._

"What?" Katniss asks, confused.

"The belts. They're flotation devices," Finnick explains, and it does seem to make sense, at least to me, it does. "I mean, you have to propel yourself, but they keep you from drowning."

We stand together looking out at the tributes in the water for a few moments, trying to confirm or disprove Mags' theory, until Katniss breaks the silence.

"We should clear out," she says, and hands me a bow, an sheath of arrows and two knives. Mags pesters her for a while until Katniss relinquishes an awl to her. With a weapon, Mags seems contented, and Finnick hoists her over his shoulder, along with his net.

"Let's go," he says, leaving me and Katniss to follow him from the cornucopia.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I've finally gotten round to it, so '75 Games; After the Mockingjay' is now published! Please feel free to go and check it out if you want more like this story :) I'm hoping to begin '75 Games: The Forgotten' during this weekend :)**


	85. Hysteria

**A/N: Thanks to RealFiction, mangesboy01, PrincessLyoka and krikanalo for reviewing! The support is appreciated :)**

**Here's the first chapter of the Quell from the perspective of a Career. I hope you enjoy it :)**

**"It's holding me, morphing me**

**And forcing me to strive**

**To be endlessly cold within**

**And dreaming I'm alive."**

**- Matthew Bellamy, 2003.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 11.15 am**

**Cashmere Adlington (27), District 1 Female**

**Muse- Hysteria (2003)**

* * *

"Do it."

Seeder's short plea for death is enough to stiffen my resolve and I slit her throat with ease, the way I was taught to all those years ago in District 1's Training Centre. Her eyes roll backwards up into her head and the first cannon sounds, signalling the end of the bloodbath.

I look up to see the first hovercraft arrive to collect the bodies that we threw out into the water. Scanning the waves now tinted purple with blood, I count seven bodies. Add the dead woman's body beneath me and that makes eight. At one time, I had expected more. I guess a couple of injured tributes, such as the man from District 3, got out alive.

"I'll take care of this," says Brutus, lifting Seeder's limp body over his shoulder and laying it down in the water. We stand together for a few moments staring out into the sea as Seeder's body moves further and further from us. By now most of the bodies are out of the water. Any reminders of the conflict that occurred here this morning will soon be gone.

It's such a waste. It really is. These were all people who have been through the horrors of the arena once, just I have. Most can come out alive once with some ties to their former self, but a lot are completely ruined by the arena, like Haymitch, Annie or Blake. Putting any of them in for a second time is unfair. They've had their share of challenges in life. And those that have survived it turn to the other victors for support, as they are the only few others in the world who can understand what it's like to go into the arena.

And now they have turned us against each other.

I was better than most after the Games. The youngest victor of all, at the time of my Games. I had volunteered for the glory. I wanted fame and riches. And, for a few years, I could enjoy it. But, like my brother after me, years of being used and abused by the Capitol ever since the Games ended left me ruined by the 70th Games. It's not so much that we doubt our actions in the arena (although I do doubt mine), but we question whether volunteering for the Games was really worth all the suffering caused thereafter.

I suppose, in a way, I wonder if my actions in the arena were justified. I trained for fame and fortune, and actually enjoyed my time in the arena before. I enjoyed being in the limelight, where I knew everyone was watching my every move. But having experienced life as a victor after the Games for the past twelve years, it's not all that it's cracked up to be. I know already that I won't enjoy the arena this time around like I did before. This is just a job that needs to be done to keep myself alive.

"Know where we're heading next?" Enobaria asks, walking up behind me and Brutus as the final body is lifted into the sky.

"I've no idea," I say truthfully. With all the action of the bloodbath, I haven't given any thought as to where to go next. I'm just glad that all four of us are still alive. I was worried that the advantage of the Career Pack would be ruled out as everyone here is an experienced killer, but it seems that we are still the dominant force. Not only that, but we almost got through the arena completely unscathed. Only my brother Gloss has a minor injury,. having taken one of Katniss' arrows in his calf. Having seen her shoot during training, I know that Katniss is possibly the largest threat of all this year. She's with Finnick, the other major threat, and surely they will rival us for sponsor support. Still, we have the numbers advantage. They won't openly confront us. Not yet, anyway.

"We'd better gather everything we can from the supply pile before we go anywhere," Brutus suggests.

"We've gather all that we need," Enobaria replies. "There's just weapons there."

The three of us walk round to the front of the cornucopia, where Gloss is sorting the supplies into piles. It turns out that Enobaria is right. There are over twenty neatly-arranged piles lying in the sand, but all of them contain weapons. I walk over to one containing over a dozen knives and slip two more into my belt, before grabbing a wooden reflex bow from a separate pile and two quivers of arrows, a dozen in each. There's some debate as both Gloss and Enobaria reach for the remaining knives and daggers, a battle of words which Enobaria finally winds. My brother ends up with two, while Enobaria takes the rest to offer ranged support to out group.

If you ever needed to assemble a team of the four greatest victors of all, you wouldn't overlook the four of us. Sure, if you asked for the four greatest, some of us would be overlooked, but as a foursome, I can't think of another group that would rival us. I can imagine the plan of attack already, and it brings a smile to my face. I'm not pleased about the suffering that we will ultimately cause, but I know that if we stay together, we'll go far in these Games.

Looking out at the arena, I can see plenty of cover, either under the waves or in the dense underbrush of the forest that extends beyond the water in every direction. This is perfect for Gloss, the silent assassin. He can use his stealth to sneak in upon a group of tributes and grab an easy, unsuspecting kill, raising hell. We'd send Enobaria in with him to provide as distraction as Gloss makes his escape and I'd provide covering fire for Enobaria with my arrows and knives. With Enobaria holding the attention of whoever's unfortunate enough to be the target of our ambush, we'd unleash Mr. One-Man-Army himself, Brutus Cato, to charge in and deal the final blow.

I smirk again as I think of our unstoppable combination and, in a strange way, I'm looking forward to putting our plans to good use.

"We'd better get rid of whatever we don't need," Gloss suggest, looking down at the myriad of weapons we stand around. "We can't carry all of this, and its best not to risk letting other tributes get their hands on any of this."

"You're right," Brutus says thoughtfully. "We can throw them deep in the water, where no tribute will risk diving down to reach them. Enobaria, come and give me a hand with some of these maces. They're rather heavy..."

The tributes of District 2 carry the first load of weapons to the water's edge, leaving me alone momentarily with my brother.

"I guess we'd better help," he says, reaching down to pick up a bow identical to my own.

"I suppose so," I shrug, and begin to help him.

As I follow Gloss down the slopes of the small island with the first load of weapons, my mind drifts back to the one thing that has been on my mind for the last week, ever since the reaping. This is only the second time that a brother and sister have both competed for District 1 in the same Hunger Games. The last pair, a due called Glitz and Glamour, died fighting in the First Quarter Quell fifty years ago. I've seen the First Quell a few times on television. Glamour deserved to win that year. Which turns my attention to my current predicament. As far as I'm aware, Gloss and I are the only twins to have ever competed together, but I know that the Capitol will make no allowances for us. It will go down as a tragedy, but they will do nothing to help us. If only Katniss and Peeta hadn't faked double suicide last year. We could've used that as a way to get the Gamemakers to save both of us. But this year, after what happened to Seneca Crane last year because of his decisions, I get the impression that Plutarch Heavensbee would blow us sky high.

And so, I am left to admit the fact that someday, somehow, I will be forced to fight my brother.

Well, it's either that or we both die.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**I know it's going to be yet another side-project, but I've been inspired this morning to start yet another side-project to this story.**

**This one won't be a community project like the other two and will be considerably shorter, but I'm considering making a de-fictionalisation (of sorts) of the programme handed out to the audience at the interviews for the Third Quarter Quell. Inside it would include profiles for all the victors and mentors in the Games, talking more about their lives after the arena, which hasn't really featured at all in this story.**

**If anyone thinks this would be a good idea and would be interested in reading it, then please let me know :)**


	86. Last of the American Girls

**A/N: Thanks to mangesboy01, xx-Want-A-Sugar-Cube-xx, Clover80, Klicker'andKash, krikanalo, allonsydney, Kman528, PrincessLyoka, richards25 and Beauthg for reviewing!**

**This chapter includes dialogue taken from Chapter 20 of 'Catching Fire', so sadly that isn't of my creation. Nor is the victor for this chapter, for that matter.**

**But anyway, on with the story. I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)**

**"She plays her vinyl records singing songs on the eve of destruction**

**She's a sucker for the criminals breaking the laws**

**She will come in first for the end of western civilisation**

**She's an endless war, she's a hero for the lost cause**

**Like a hurricane in the heart of destruction**

**She's a natural disaster**

**She's the last of the American girls."**

**- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 2009.**

* * *

**The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 1, 2.15 pm**

**Margaret 'Mags' Tyler (81), District 4 Female**

**Green Day - Last of the American Girls (2009)**

* * *

Slowly, as the afternoon wears on, with everyone feeling more and more disheartened by the lack of water present in the arena, we continue our trek uphill. The hot, humid air has taken its effect on all of us. Katniss and Peeta, the tributes of District 12, more more slowly as the afternoon wears on, and Finnick begins to lose energy beneath me.

I'd told him time and time again that I'd be able to take care of myself in the arena. That I could survive on my own. But while Finnick didn't doubt it for a second, he also argued that I'd struggle to keep up should our alliance have formed as it now has. And, having seen the arena, I can't deny that I wouldn't be a burden to the group.

Really, after all I've done for him, I suppose I should be grateful that Finnick is giving back. Not that I ever doubted it, of course, but I was there to help him at times of his life when nobody else was. Such as the difficult winter after the 70th Hunger Games, or even the time when I helped him through the arena.

I wasn't Finnick's mentor. At least, not officially. It was Auriel, a young, inexperienced mentor who'd done a couple of Games after his victory in the 58th Games but little more. I don't blame Auriel for anything that had happened to him, but by the 65th Games, he was in dire straits. It had started with a row between Auriel and Harrow (I can't remember what sparked the argument), but it quickly escalated to much more than that. Eventually after several weeks of antagonising each other, Harrow stepped over the line. I think he meant to startle Auriel, maybe to knock some sense into him, I'm not sure, but I remembered being told that Harrow had caused some sort of mental shutdown inside of Auriel's mind, rendering him almost insane for months.

It was when the two victors had been sharing a training day at the Training Centre. Harrow had waited in the kitchens before lunch, and threw a bread knife at him as soon as he opened the door. Thankfully, the knife missed, but the desired effect had been created. Auriel's Games had seen him fighting through the corridors of the District 4 Training Centre, which was laced with traps. Something about the way that Harrow had throw the knife had caused some sort of flashback to his time into the arena. Harrow had done the unthinkable, and used the mental instabilities caused by the arena against another victor.

Let's just say that Harrow wasn't the most popular among us in the next twelve months.

Auriel, who was chosen to be Finnick's mentor, being completely incapacitated, I had to attempt the daunting task of mentoring two tributes for the same Games, and I have to say that it's an experience I never want to repeat. It made me have a lot more respect for the victors like Blight and Haymitch, who literally spent decades mentoring two tributes a year. Well, Haymitch couldn't stand it, but you get my point.

When the new rule that victors could decide among themselves who was going to mentor each year at the 67th Games, I made it clear that I'd had enough. We'd had two victors in the past two years. At least I could claim that I'd gone out on a high, if that's any consolation.

Suddenly I'm jolted out of my daydream when Katniss screams and I see a bright flash as Peeta flies backwards, landing on his back in the vines that he had been attempting to clear. I can't imagine what he hit that caused so much damage - there's only trees and vines here - but Katniss certainly seems alarmed, keeling down beside him.

"Peeta?" Katniss says quietly, giving her district partner a slight shake. He's unresponsive. Something's happened, and I've no idea what. Katniss runs his fingers over his mouth, rests her head against his chest. I watch as her facial expression begins to show desperation. "Peeta!" she calls again, far more desperately, shaking him much more vigorously. As she starts slapping his face, Finnick sets me down by a tree that I can use for balance and rushes over towards Peeta.

"Let me," he says to Katniss, pushing her out of the way and doing a quick examination of Peeta's condition, the way he's been trained, just like every other child has been in District 4. Then he pinches Peeta's nostrils shut, ready to start the emergency procedure.

"No!" Katniss screams, clearly not understanding Finnick's incentives as she hurls herself at him. Finnick's attention diverts from Peeta only for a split-second to knock Katniss backwards with a well-placed punch, sending her flying into a nearby tree, before returning to working on Peeta.

He knows what he's doing, Finnick does. No doubt he's been through this several times before. Usually it's only used for half-drowned sailors at home who's been involved in a fishing accident, but I guess Finnick can't think of anything else in this situation, even though I'm not actually sure what happened. Whatever it was, it must be serious.

For a while, it seems like Finnick's fighting a lost cause, and I can tell that with every minute that Finnick spends breathing air into Peeta's lungs, Katniss is starting to believe the same thing. Then, after what feels like hours, Peeta splutters once, gives a small cough slowly comes back to the world around him. Finnick sits back on his knees as Katniss rushes over to her fallen district partner.

"Peeta?" she says softly, checking desperately for the reassuring touch of his beating pulse on his neck.

"Careful," he splutters, opening his blue eyes again. "There's a force field ahead." Suddenly I understand what has happened, and how lucky Peeta has been. Finnick has managed to bring him back from the dead. I've never known anyone to survive a force field shock given in the arena. Usually the Gamemakers make sure that any force fields in the arena are 100% certain to kill, but maybe Plutarch has managed to lower its strength slightly without raising suspicion. I don't know all the ins and outs of the plan to break out of the arena, but Finnick does. All I know is that we need Beetee, and he's got the knowledge passed on from Plutarch of how to get us out of here. Oh, and that we need to keep Katniss safe, too. That's why Finnick saved Peeta. We don't need him; not really, anyway. But we need Katniss, and we have a better chance of proving our loyalty to her if we keep Peeta alive, too.

"Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Centre roof," Peeta says, and I notice that Katniss is crying. "I'm all right, though. Just a little shaken."

"You were dead!" Katniss cries. "Your heart stopped!" Then she puts her hands over her mouth, and she looks as though she's on the verge of sobbing. Really, after all she's been through, she should be afraid of a few tears, the poor girl.

"Well, it seems to be working now," Peeta says reassuringly, but it's too late to stop her losing control, if only a few moments. "Katniss?" he asks gently, rather concerned.

"It's OK," Finnick says. "It's just her hormones. From the baby," he adds, and I already know that he's just trying to cover up Katniss' weaknesses to the audience, and to play the vital pregnancy support to gain us sponsors in the arena. Apparently Haymitch, who is organising the part of the plan run by the mentors, is going to communicate with us through sponsor gifts. We need all the support we can get to benefit the plan. Finnick knows a swell as I do that the pregnancy is faked - Haymitch told him this morning when they met briefly to confirm that the plan was going ahead - but he knows that by reminding the public of Katniss' supposed condition at every possible moment, he'll get her sympathy from the public, which can only be a good thing.

"No, it's not-" Katniss starts to say, but immediately breaks down into sobs. For a moment, I see Katniss and Finnick stare at each other through the tears, as if trying to work each other out, but then Peeta tries to speak up before anything can become of the tension.

"How are you?" Finnick asks quickly, turning Katniss' attention back to her district partner. "Do you think you can move on?"

"No, he has to rest," Katniss answers for him, but is distracted by her runny nose as she tries to find a handkerchief but doesn't have anything to use. I reach up and pull a clump of moss from a branch of the tree above me and I hand it to her. She thanks me before blowing her nose and wiping her tears from her face. Then she becomes distracted by something else and grabs something form around Peeta's neck that I can't quite see.

"Is this your token?" she asks him.

"Yes," he replies. "Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match," he explains. Now that Katniss has moved the object in her hand somewhat I can see the glint of gold clearly. It's similar to Finnick's token, too. It's the symbol of the rebels. The symbol that gave us hope throughout the dark winter that followed the November revolts.

"No, of course I don't mind," Katniss replies, smiling.

"So do you want to make camp here, then?" Finnick asks, trying to return the conversation to the business at hand. I can tell that he doesn't feel safe here, stationary in the thick jungle.

"I don't think that's an option," Peeta says. "Staying here. With no water. No protection. I feel all right, really. If we could just go slowly."

"Slowly would be better than not at all," Finnick admits, and helps Peeta to his feet.

"I'll take the lead," Katniss suddenly announces confidently, and Peeta starts to object.

"No, let her do it," Finnick says, taking Katniss' side for just a moment before turning to interrogate her.

"You knew that force field was there, didn't you?" he asks, frowning at her. "Right at the last second?" You started to give a warning." Katniss nods. "How did you know?" Finnick asks.

Katniss pauses for a moment, and it's obvious to everyone around that she's lying as soon as she starts speaking. "I don't know. It's almost as though I could hear it. Listen," she says.

"I don't hear anything," Peeta says. Ok, maybe it wasn't obvious to him that Katniss was lying.

"Yes," Katniss insists, and Finnick and me play along, listening in, although we both know there is nothing to be listening for. I don't know how she detected the force field, but it certainly wan't like this. "It's like when the fence around District Twelve is on, only much, much quieter." She pauses for a moment, and we all listen intently for nothing once again. "There!" she exclaims. "Can't you hear it? It's coming right from where Peeta got shocked."

"I don't hear it, either," Finnick says truthfully, because there isn't anything to hear. "But if you do, by all means, take the lead."

"That's weird," Katniss says, pretending not to hear Finnick's comment, pretending to be puzzled. "I can only hear it out of my left ear."

"The one the doctors reconstructed?" Peeta asks earnestly. I get the impression that he's gullible enough to actually believe her.

"Yeah," Katniss replies, shrugging. "Maybe they did a better job than they thought. You know, sometimes I do hear funny things on that side. Things you wouldn't ordinarily think have a sound. Like insect wings. Or snow hitting the ground."

It's as though she's thought all this through, but it's still a lie. I can't stand to hear her continue about her supposed heightened sense of hearing, so I interject before she says anything else.

"You go first, then," I tell her, although I'm not sure that she completely comprehends me. My mind has remained sound through the years, but sadly my body has not. I know what I want to say, but somehow I can't force my mouth to make all the right shapes anymore. Combine that with my strong District 4 accent, and i bet she barely understands a word I say. I'm glad Finnick can serve as a translator when needed. He's used to the way I speak. But this time, I get the impression that Katniss understands what I'm after.

Katniss takes the lead of the party as we prepare to depart, walking off into the dense jungle once again.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not sure whether too much of this chapter was just a change of perspective from the original book. I tried to include some background info on District 4 and the rebellion. Hopefully you all enjoyed it anyway :)**

**Regardless of your views on the chapter, I'd like to know what you thought of it via review. As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

**P.S. I now have three side stories underway to follow on from this one, two of them community projects. '75 Games: After the Mockingjay', '75 Games: The Forgotten' and '75 Games: Meet the Victors!' have all been published over the course of the last weekend and have a few chapters already posted. Feel free to go and read them, if you feel inclined to do so :)**


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